Blood Bond
by Racey
Summary: Life as Ichigo knows it takes a cruel and twisted turn, where humans are no longer at the top of the food chain. AU, yaoi, swearing, violence.
1. Chapter 1: Darkness Descends

**CHAPTER 1: DARKNESS DESCENDS**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach...

**I promised my little sis, Farin, a vampire GrimmIchi story and I'm here to deliver. I hope this provides a little calm and enjoyment in the middle of your RL storm. Love you.**

**FURTHER WARNINGS: This contains a form of Stockholm Syndrome, but no rape. I know a few of you out there turn your noses up at the idea of Ichigo falling for his captor (or vice versa), but in this case, I think it fits. It won't happen right away, and most times the story will be quite dark, but in the end, it will still be a romance. Again, there will be no rape, but there will be a lot of brutality. That being said...**

Onwards...

XOXOXO

_**April 2012**_

_**Karakura Human Colony**_

_**Karakura, Japan**_

He used to be a normal kid: in high school, participating in the karate and baseball clubs, going on dates, making out and having sex with cute girls: he used to have it all. Or so he'd thought. But as a teenager, there wasn't much more to the world, so, of course, he'd think that way. So blindly naïve. So oblivious to the real world – or rather the _underworld_. The _true_ nature of things. Had he known then, what he knew now, he would have been able to prepare. He wouldn't be separated from his little sisters, and he sure as hell wouldn't be an orphan. But he was getting ahead of himself. This thing deserved a proper explanation.

_**May 2002**_

_**Karakura High School**_

_**Karakura, Japan**_

"Oiiii, Ichigooooo!"

Keigo barreled down the hall in his direction wearing an insanely wide grin. Ichigo rolled his eyes and sidestepped the out-flung arms of his loud best friend. It was their daily routine. He'd show up in the mornings and Keigo would try to knock him over with his exuberant affection. When he'd first met the shorter brunet, he'd admit, he'd been on the verge of kicking his ass up and down the halls. Now, it didn't bother him so much.

"Knock it off, Keigo," he muttered.

Brown eyes sparkling with mock disappointment, Keigo climbed from the floor, petulant pout tipping the corners of his lips into a downward arc. "You never let me love you, Ichigo!" he cried in dismay.

Ichigo held back a grin as he continued down the hall to their homeroom. Keigo was an idiot, but he was a loyal one, if nothing else. Keigo gripped his elbow and danced along beside him, eyes closed with glee. Sometimes Ichigo thought his friend was gay and had a thing for him with the way he always seemed to cling and make iffy remarks. He'd exclaim loudly in front of a hall full of students how much he loved Ichigo's candy corn-orange hair, or how manly Ichigo looked that day. Normally, he'd roll his eyes and pry the boy off him, but when Keigo was especially annoying, he'd give the boy a stern glare that meant business. The brunet teen would back off then. But then there were the times Keigo would fall all over himself trying to get the female species' attention. It was all too confusing. Maybe Keigo swung both ways.

"I'm not obligated to," Ichigo grunted before sliding the door to their homeroom open.

They trooped inside, Keigo still trying to hang from him like a tree monkey. Ichigo nudged the boy away and took his usual seat at the back of the class, nearest the windows, before plopping behind the desk. He tossed his notebook onto the pale wooden surface and propped his chin in his palm. He really hated class these days. The teacher was boring as shit and the other students were annoying at best. Not endearingly like Keigo; more assholish and snarky...like Ishida. Ichigo glanced over a couple rows at his dark-haired classmate and shook his head, amused. The haughty genius always wore his arrogance like a cloak, but there were times that even he could be ruffled. And they almost always involved their busty, apricot-haired classmate, Orihime Inoue. She was extremely pretty, extremely blessed in the boob department, and extremely naïve and innocent. She didn't seem to notice the way the boys in the class ogled her like a big, juicy steak, never mind the lewd comments that were hardly ever disguised.

At one point, Ichigo'd thought the girl had had a thing for him. She'd always greeted him with a huge, cheerful grin and an excited wave, chirpy voice hailing, "Good morning, Kurosaki-kun!" He'd thought she was adorable, but that was about it. She was a sweet girl, but he'd only ever looked at her like a sister. Sure, she had jugs suited for pinup posters and dirty magazines, but her personality made her too pure. Something he had no intentions of tarnishing with his rampant teenage boy hormones. Then, he'd realized that she was just being friendly whenever she greeted him, or offered her help with math (which he was absolutely terrible at). She didn't have a boyfriend, but it didn't appear that she wanted one, either.

At the moment, her joyful disposition was pointed at the glasses-sporting, dark-haired Uryuu Ishida, who wore his deep blush like makeup. Ichigo grinned slyly. It'd always been a favorite pastime of his to mess with Ishida whenever the guy floundered around Inoue. Took the unbearable know-it-all down a notch or two. He lowered his hand and opened his mouth to say something really witty and rude, when the classroom door banged open. Frowning, he glanced up...and promptly sighed.

"Your exalted ruler has arrived! Now bow before me!"

Ichigo shook his head in amusement. The class clown had officially made his flagrant appearance. Renji Abarai sauntered into the classroom with an air of narcissism so refined, it had to have taken years to perfect. Garishly red hair was pulled into a ponytail and wrapped with a white bandana, and the school's uniform hung from his muscular frame like a discarded jacket. It was wrinkled all to hell and his tie looked like it'd been knotted by a three year old. Ichigo chuckled as he watched the boy make his way over to the seat next to him.

"Yo, Ichigo!"

"Renji," he returned coolly. "Loud as ever, I see."

"I was born loud, Ich and I sure as hell ain't 'bout ta stop now."

"I wish you would," a disgruntled female alto sounded from in front of the red head. "Your voice makes my ears bleed."

Ichigo grinned, prepared to enjoy the show. The dark-haired tomboy, Tatsuki Arisawa, never did get along with Renji, and their arguments usually reached epic levels before the teacher arrived to shut them up. Looked like today would be no different.

"Arisawa," Renji drawled, russet eyes twinkling with devilment. "I toldja plenty a'times already: if ya wanna fuck me...all ya gotta do is ask."

"You wish, asshole!" Tatsuki hissed, turning in her seat to face Renji.

"Not really, but if yer offerin'...well, I don' see why not. I'm a guy; I'll fuck a cushion if it looks good enough."

Ichigo choked on a snort as he tried to hide his laughter. Renji was a fool. Tatsuki must've agreed because once Renji made that ridiculous declaration, she gave him a wolfish grin. "Speaks _volumes_ of your intelligence, Abarai. Or better yet, the lack thereof."

"Whatever, woman. I ain't got time ta argue witchu. Jus' lemme know when yer ready fer me ta lay down the pipe."

"Such a jerk," she grumbled with a brief shake of her head before turning forward again.

"You're fuckin' stupid," Ichigo said, still chuckling. "What makes ya think she wants to fuck you?"

Renji leaned across the aisle and lowered his voice as if he were giving up top-secret information. "It's all in the eyes, Ichigo. Renji knows these things."

He couldn't help it. He fell into a fit of laughter at his red-haired friend. As crass as Renji was, he was certainly good for a few chuckles, which had earned him the title of class clown to begin with.

"One day, these girls are gonna get together and kick your ass."

The red head scoffed and sat back, folding his arms over a broad chest. "You mean _kiss_ my ass."

"Eww!" Keigo piped up from in front of Ichigo, brown eyes disgusted. "Who'd wanna kiss that hairy monstrosity?"

Renji gave the brunet a cursory glance before focusing on him fully as if he'd just realized something. "Wait. Keigo, you been eyein' my ass?"

Keigo flushed scarlet as he sputtered, "Y-you know I didn't mean it like that, Abarai!" Then he recovered with a sneaky grin. "Besides, you always parade around in the showers after gym like you're some type of kami on high. There's no way anyone could miss it."

Instead of being offended, Renji just smiled. "I _am_ a kami, Keigo. Never doubt it, Princess."

"Hey!" Keigo screeched, fully prepared to rant, but the classroom door slid open again.

Instead of the teacher they'd all been expecting, a hulking, brown-skinned teenager ducked through the doorway, wavy brown hair swaying with the movement. He paused before making his way over to Ichigo's side of the room, where he eased into the seat in front of Keigo. Once he settled, he glanced over his shoulder with a warm grin aimed at Ichigo that Ichigo gladly returned. Sado Yasutora – or as Ichigo liked to call him, Chado – had to be the biggest second year student in Karakura High. He had muscles for years and exuded a natural intimidation, but once one got to know him, was the gentlest creature in existence, right along with bunnies and lambs. However, if you pissed him off, he got pretty scary. Ichigo was no wimp or pussy, but he was definitely grateful he'd landed on the guy's good side.

"Hey, Ichigo," Chado greeted quietly, voice rumbling like distant thunder.

"Hey, Chado," he returned.

A beat passed before Renji barked, "What am I, invisible?"

Chado just smirked in amusement before greeting the boisterous red head as well. "Renji."

"Tch. I swear, I think you an' Ich are gettin' it on on the low," Renji muttered.

"Sado! Say it isn't so!" Keigo cried.

Ichigo reached forward and smacked the idiot across the back of his head. "Don't be stupid, dumbass! I like girls, remember?"

Keigo slowly regrouped, clutching the back of his head. With a heaved sigh, he said, "Yes, unfortunately."

Renji glanced over at the brunet, highly amused. "Ya sure yer not inta guys, Keigo? First ya admit ta gawkin' at my ass, now yer sighing like a love-sick female over Ichigo. I don' know, man. Sounds kinda fishy ta me."

"I'm joking!" Keigo snapped. "Everyone knows my heart truly belongs to-"

"Good morning, Kurosaki-kun!" Inoue sang.

"Hey, Inoue," Ichigo absently replied, still glaring at Renji for his earlier comment.

"Speaking of my queen! How does your morning fare, my love?" Keigo nearly shouted as he vaulted out of his seat and made his way in front of Inoue, where he promptly tripped over his feet and fell face first.

He climbed to his knees as Inoue giggled innocently and patted his brown hair. "Keigo-kun, are you OK?"

Keigo swooned and dramatically placed his hands over his heart. "She actually asked me a question!"

Renji'd apparently had enough of the theatrics because he kicked Keigo's shoulder, sending the boy flying backwards. "Get off the floor, you retard!"

Ichigo glanced back and forth between his friends and grinned. No, he didn't like class much, but he did enjoy being with the other teens. Definitely kept him on his toes.

**XxxxxX**

They'd gone to the roof for lunch like usual, then made the grudging return to class. His friends were back to bickering amongst themselves, when the classroom door slowly slid open, admitting their somber-faced teacher. Dark frames hung off the man's beaky nose, and graying black hair performed a not-so-graceful arc across his balding head, using only four strands at the most. It was interesting.

Renji opened his mouth to antagonize the man (which was one of his favorite hobbies during class), when he abruptly snapped it shut, seeming to realize at the same time as Ichigo that something was terribly wrong with their sensei. The man's normally fiery black eyes were liquid-like, glassy. His lips trembled, as did his hands, and were pressed into a very thin line. Something was up. Either someone was in deep shit, or there was a crisis involving the school.

Renji tried speaking this time. "Oi, Sensei. Ya don' look too good."

The man jumped like he'd been caught daydreaming before focusing on Renji. It took him a minute, but he finally adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat. "I-I've been told by the head of the school to dismiss you. It appears a state of emergency has been declared."

Ichigo exchanged confused glances with his friends before turning back to the teacher and speaking up. "For the school?"

"No, Kurosaki-kun. All of Japan, it seems." That got the whole class mumbling to themselves, but the teacher continued. "Go home, now. A-and please be careful."

After their sensei dropped that bomb on them, he left the room. Again, Ichigo exchanged glances with his friends, not really understanding the situation. What did they need to be careful of? What kind of emergency had been declared? What the fuck was going on? He rose, more than aware that he wouldn't get the answers he sought in that classroom. The rest of the students followed suit, some concerned and muttering to one another, while others took things a lot less seriously. Like Renji, for instance.

"Vacation time? Hell, yes! I can live with that!"

Ichigo frowned, not really sure this was a cause for celebration. National emergencies didn't really constitute lounging around, doing nothing. It usually meant war, or something equally bad. He wouldn't admit it aloud and he certainly didn't let it show on his face, but he was a little afraid. And then he thought of his family. His father, his sisters. Were they on their way home too? The teacher's ominous warning for them to be careful kept ringing through his mind, quickening his motions. He gathered his notebook and made tracks to the classroom door, attention far from the red head calling his name.

What the hell was going on?

**XxxxxxX**

"Dad!" he yelled as soon as he stepped into his home. "Yuzu! Karin!"

He didn't get a response and it made his blood run cold. On his way home from school, the streets had been eerily deserted; not even cars dared to travel the roads. Ichigo was desperate to know what the hell was going on, but he needed to make sure his family was safe first. He dropped his backpack by the door before stomping through the empty living room, pulse booming in his ears like a cannon. Hadn't they made it home yet? If so, why weren't they answering? He turned into the kitchen and paused in the doorway. No one in sight. Icy fear began traveling up and down his spine and pooling in his gut. God, he hoped nothing had happened to them. His teacher's words haunted him and inevitably made him think the worst of the widely unknown situation. As he turned to head up the stairs and continue his search there, the front door banged open, a frantic-eyed Isshin darting inside.

"Ichigo!" he yelled. "Ichigo, my son!"

Ichigo moved back into the living room, a little kiss of relief brushing over his heart. "Dad!"

Isshin's eyes landed on him a second before the man rushed him and threw his arms around him. Things had to be dire for his usually idiotic old man to react in this manner. He allowed himself to be enfolded in the elder Kurosaki's embrace for a while...until his curiosity got the best of him.

"Dad, what the hell is going on? And where're the girls?" he asked.

Isshin stepped back and studied him, dark eyes still a bit wild and panicked, and big hands slowly tracing paths up and down Ichigo's arms. "My son," he started, voice cracking. "I'm so glad you're alright."

Oh, he was sure of it, now. They were at war, or they were going to die. Either one was pretty fucking bad.

"Dad," he said again. "_Where are the girls?_" He figured that was the more important question at the moment. He could find out what was going on _after_ they got a hold of his sisters.

Before Isshin could respond, the front door closed and drew Ichigo's attention. He glanced around his father and exhaled harshly: Yuzu and Karin stood near the door, expressions frightened. Well, Yuzu's was. Karin's was more along the lines of scared and trying to hide it. The fear that had been crawling up his throat gradually subsided until he was able to speak again.

"You have any idea what's going on?" he asked.

Isshin scrubbed a hand over the dark stubble on his jaws before running it through his equally dark hair. "I only know what they've shown on the news. I don't know if it's real or an act, but it's very frightening."

"What...is...it?" Ichigo slowly enunciated. Maybe his old man would see just how anxious he was and take it easy on the suspense. That was something he could do without at the moment.

Isshin turned and gave the girls an uncharacteristically nervous look before facing Ichigo again. "I-I don't think the girls should-"

"If you even _think_ about keepin' us in the dark, Goat Chin, you'll be sorry," Karin's gruff voice cut in.

When Ichigo focused on the dark-haired twin, he wasn't very surprised to see sullen resentment shining in her ebony eyes. Isshin had a habit of treating them like little kids, and even though Ichigo knew it was done out of love and concern, the girls (mostly Karin) didn't seem to realize that. Meaning, there was no way in hell Karin was going to sit back and be excluded from the knitting circle this time around. Yuzu, however, didn't seem like she wanted to know what was causing them all to be so frightened.

Ichigo watched the battle war across his old man's face and honestly felt bad for him. He knew how strongly Isshin wanted to protect all of them, even if it meant withholding valuable information. It had to be killing the man being forced into such a weighty decision. Finally, the smoke cleared and Isshin gave a weary sigh before turning to the TV. He plopped onto the couch, grabbed the remote and turned it on. The screen came to life displaying the Japanese prime minister in an office, the surrounding drapes and curtains pulled tight, blocking any form of sunlight, while several men and women flanked him on all sides. Yellow, artificial light beamed from the ceiling and illuminated the prime minister's pasty face that was covered with sweat, jowls quivering. Just as Ichigo started to ask what the hell that was all about, Isshin raised the volume and the prime minister started speaking, albeit more than a little scared.

"_Japan has been introduced to a higher regime, a race worthy of praise and servitude. We are l-lucky to be apart of history. W-with this new order, we will be freed from the prison of our own arrogance. We will know that we are no longer supreme beings; we will acknowledge their strength. By nightfall, the proof of their power w-will be revealed."_

The guy sounded like he was reading a cue card. Ichigo gave his father an incredulous look, but Isshin wasn't aware of it. His eyes were glued to the TV, brow pulled into a ferocious scowl. Shaking his head, Ichigo came around the side of the couch and took a seat next to his old man. None of what he'd seen made sense. In fact, it all seemed like a hoax. How the hell had a few men and women taken over the prime minister's office? Where were his guards? Where were the police? The army? Hell, every armed force in Japan should have been knocking down the door to that office and storming the shit out of it.

"I don't get it," he said slowly. "Doesn't this all seem a little – oh, I don't know – _unreal?_"

"It does," Isshin mumbled, lacing his fingers together under his chin. "But that isn't the issue. What bothers me are the men patrolling the streets in dark vans and cars. They look...unnatural."

"Wait, I didn't see anyone patrolling the streets when I was on my way home. And what do you mean by unnatural?"

He was starting to get nervous and a tiny bit afraid again. This cryptic way of talking didn't suit his old man. Neither did the fear that was written all over his face. There was something totally wrong with this whole fucked up situation.

"Ichigo, my son," he said softly. "I _saw_ them. They came into the hospital and held the director at gun-point with weapons long as my arms, ordering him to clear everywhere except the ICU. It was madness. My co-worker, Dr. Suzuki, made a fuss about leaving his patients...and they killed him. Without hesitation."

Ichigo was stunned into silence. That couldn't be true. It couldn't be. There was _no way_ something like that could have occurred without the police being involved. An entire hospital held under siege, a man killed in cold blood, yet, no sign of law enforcement? Impossible.

"Dad, don't you think the police would've-"

"They _were_ the police, Ichigo. They wore their uniforms and everything. Whoever's behind this, they have complete control of our government, which is what frightens me the most."

Blatant admission. Definitely not what he'd been expecting from his seemingly fearless father. Isshin Kurosaki never showed an ounce of trepidation towards anything – except maybe the idea of Yuzu and Karin dating, or Ichigo dropping out of school. Other than that, the older man was always carefree, to the point of idiocy sometimes. It was what Ichigo was used to, what made his old man endearing. This serious side of the old man, this obvious fright: it bothered Ichigo.

"S-so...what do we do now?" he asked carefully.

By then, Yuzu and Karin had edged to the couch on the other side of Isshin and were waiting for his answer just as anxiously as Ichigo. He hated seeing his little sisters look the way they did in that instant. Yes, he was accustomed to Karin's surly disposition, but he could honestly say he'd never seen the dark-haired twin legitimately scared. And Yuzu. She fiddled with a lock of her straw-brown hair as she kept her eyes on the floor, but there was no mistaking the slight shaking of her small body. Ichigo gritted his teeth and clenched his hands into fists. This was absurd.

"We don't do _anything_. Not until we know exactly what's going on," Isshin answered.

Ichigo wanted to shout how that just wasn't good enough for him, but that would be counterproductive and scare his sisters in the process. He didn't need that. As a matter of fact, until they were sure what they were dealing with, they'd go on living as normally as possible. No reason to make a big deal out of a mystery. With more resolve than he really felt, Ichigo took a deep breath and climbed to his feet. He rubbed sweaty palms along his thighs, then turned to face his distraught family.

"Who's up for dinner?"

Isshin gave him a hesitant smile, dark eyes glittering with thanks before they all made their way into the kitchen. As they shuffled around and prepared a quick meal, Ichigo relaxed. Even though his father had witnessed a man's cold-blooded murder and his sisters were clearly terrified, Ichigo felt like there was hope for them.

He'd been foolishly optimistic.

**XxxxxxX**

The bed was warm and his covers contained the comfort only freshly laundered linens afforded, but Ichigo couldn't get to sleep at all. He'd been trying for the past two hours and so far, all he'd succeeded in doing was mussing the sheets and kicking away the blanket. He tossed and turned like it was a sport; it was frustrating as hell. He _wanted_ to sleep. Hell, he wanted to sleep so hard, it'd look like he was in a coma. Didn't seem like that was going to happen, though. He turned onto his side and lay there, eyes open and staring into the dark of his bedroom. The moon spilled in through his window and cast shadows near his desk and closet, but he wasn't afraid. He was agitated more than anything.

They still had no clue what was happening out there, since the same segment they'd seen on TV earlier merely kept repeating itself. No progress, no news. _Nothing_. They were stuck in limbo, trying to figure out if things would die down. Maybe it was all a hoax like Ichigo'd thought before, someone being an asshole and riling up the country just to get a few laughs. But then again, that didn't explain what his father had seen at the hospital. Ichigo still couldn't wrap his mind around that one. How had a man been ruthlessly killed in a room full of witnesses and nothing had been done about it? And if his old man was correct, the guy had been killed by their very own law enforcement. He huffed and turned onto his back, throwing his arms behind his head. This was crazy. There was no way something like that could've happened without repercussions.

There were _those_ thoughts of course, and then there were the others, whispering at the back of his mind, demanding he pay heed to them. What if his country really was being taken over by an unknown force? What if this was only the tip of the iceberg? And more importantly, what was supposed to happen at nightfall?

It was already well into the evening hours and so far, there'd been no signs of disruption. The neighborhood was quiet, everyone probably indoors, worrying about the same thing he currently worried about. Nevertheless, aside from the panic gripping the nation, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Ichigo scoffed and frowned at the ceiling. This _had_ to be a bad joke. A very well thought out, scary as hell joke. One he didn't find funny in the slightest. But he was curious. Who the hell could lead such a circus? Who had _so much power_, they could overrun the TV stations, schools _and_ hospitals? That was the truly baffling part. _Shit,_ _I should at least try and get some rest_, he thought, so he turned onto his side and closed his eyes.

And then all hell broke loose.

Wailing sirens made him shoot into a sitting position, eyes darting around his room wildly. What _the fuck_ was that? He scooted over to the window and peered through the parted curtains, heart hammering in his chest, definitely afraid of what he would find, of what was making that awful fucking sound. And for good reason. When he focused on the moonlit streets, his heart seemed to shudder to a stop before restarting with a painful squeeze. Black vans and cars with flashing red and blue lights affixed to the roofs filled the blacktop below. Not only that, but men wearing police uniforms scurried about like roaches, breaking down the doors of the sleeping houses on the block. That made Ichigo's mouth hang open in shock.

_What the fuck?_

A harsh boom had his head whipping towards his bedroom door. That'd come from downstairs. Horror tried to glue him to the bed, but concern for his old man and sisters made his body jerk into motion. He stumbled off the mattress, but before he could make it to the door, it was forcefully thrown open, banging against the wall. He stood rooted to the floor in the middle of his room, staring at the dark form filling the doorway. He'd barely had time to react to the crash downstairs, so how the fuck had this person made it to his room before he could even leave it? He frowned and swallowed harshly a few times, hands clenching into fists at his sides. What should he do? Just as he'd formed a decision in his head, he heard Yuzu scream and his father shout. His body automatically plowed forward, panic gripping him by the nuts. He couldn't breathe and even though he wanted to yell, it wouldn't move past his throat.

He didn't make it three steps.

The figure in the doorway moved with unnatural speed, making Ichigo pull up short as he stopped and stared in astonishment and fear. Now that he could see the figure, it scared the shit out of him. Pale skin, blazing golden eyes and shaggy dark-blue hair was the first thing he noticed. Then the man smiled, and Ichigo felt like releasing his bowels. He'd seen movies and read books about this, but never had he thought he'd see teeth that fucking sharp live and in color and outside of an animal's mouth. The sight of fangs paralyzed him and widened his eyes until he thought they'd fall right out of his head.

"What...what the fuck are you?" he croaked, surprised he was able to talk at all.

The man's smile spread, making chills run down Ichigo's spine. "I, my sweet little morsel, am what goes bump in the night," he whispered.

It was the last thing Ichigo saw before darkness threw its thick veil over him.

**Next time...**


	2. Chapter 2: From Hell

**CHAPTER 2: FROM HELL**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach...

Onwards...

XOXOXO

He woke in the back of a van, lying on the hard floor, head hurting and arms and legs manacled together. He worked his mouth back and forth a few times, jaw sore. From the pain he felt, it was probably bruised, but didn't seem broken. He glanced around the darkened vehicle, and when he didn't see his old man or sisters, he immediately called for them.

"Dad! Yuzu! Karin!" his voice was a throaty croak that only served to draw the attention of one of the men seated above him, wearing a police uniform and holding a rifle.

The man grinned and Ichigo spotted pearly white teeth. Thankfully, they didn't resemble the ones he'd seen in his bedroom. It gave him false hope, in fact. Made him think what he'd seen before had only been his imagination playing tricks on him. And wasn't that a good sign? Maybe this whole thing was just a war and had nothing to do with fanged creatures from folklore.

"Ayyy, one of 'em's awake," the man said, and his voice was _all fucking wrong_. It warbled and sounded like he was talking under water.

Another man dressed the same and also holding a rifle turned to look at Ichigo and grinned too. "Yer right."

He couldn't see faces because they wore dark helmets that covered everything except their mouths. It was disturbing and made his blood shiver through his veins. What the hell was going on? He let his eyes pass around the van again and realized he wasn't the only occupant: there were others tied up and lying on the floor of the vehicle, but they seemed unconscious. Well, if they weren't, then they were pretending to be, which was probably smarter.

The first man spoke again after standing and peering through the small partition that separated the front of the van from the back. "We're here."

Here? Where the hell was here? Ichigo strained against his restraints and tried to sit up, but before he could, the van rolled to a stop and not even five seconds later, the back doors were thrown open. Another man dressed like the two inside it, and also equipped with a menacing-looking rifle, stood back and indicated with his head for them to come out. Ichigo was trundled through the doors first – probably since he was awake. The bright parking lot lights made him blink a few times before he was able to look around and assess his new location.

They were at the ancient, abandoned prison at the edge of town. He remembered being a kid and passing by this place as they'd left Karakura on a shopping trip. His old man had told him that it was a historical landmark, so the city wasn't going to just get rid of it. It'd been creepy back then, and it was still creepy now. Probably more-so since it was night.

Other vans and cars filled the huge surrounding lot, and people were roughly awakened and lined up in twos, then shoved inside the building. As he was pushed forward as well, he wildly searched the crowd for a familiar face, only to feel acute disappointment when he didn't. They were filed inside the dishearteningly sturdy, stone prison, where they were instantly sorted like fruit. Ripe, unripe. Worm, no worm. He didn't know at first what the reason for such separation was, but he learned soon enough.

After being forced into a dark-blue uniform and matching slippers, then assigned a cell mate – an older man with a long nose and short, gray hair – they were locked inside their new home. The walls were damp, bleak and colored a drab gray. The floor was caked with God knows what and the bunks were dusty and smelled of age. They looked like moths and other little nasties had taken a turn at them. However, with a guard pointing a gun and standing before their prison bars, they had no choice but to make themselves comfortable. Ichigo glanced around the dank cell as he took a seat on the musty mattress of his bunk. He tried to ignore the implications of the old-fashioned toilet on the floor in the corner, but it didn't do him any good. He was supposed to use the bathroom in front of a complete stranger? That was just cruel.

It got worse.

As he sat with his knees drawn up to his chest on his bunk, he tried to drown out the sounds of his cell mate fervently praying for the kami to keep his family safe. Hell, it made him think of his own. He didn't want to because he knew fear and uncertainty would make him a basket case, but it was inevitable. He was scared to death. Did they take his old man and sisters somewhere else, or were they at this prison too? He just didn't know and the more he thought about it, the more it kept him from getting any rest. Not that that was going to happen, anyway.

He didn't know how much time dragged by before screams startled him out of his depressing line of thoughts. His legs fell from their bent position as he clutched his chest, heart hammering as he listened in disbelief to the bloodcurdling shrieks. He had no idea where they were coming from, what was causing them, but it scared him into helpless tears. _Fuck_, he was going to die. Not too long after that, moaning and wailing started up, only adding to the morbid soundtrack that already existed. His cell mate's prayers grew more earnest, but all Ichigo was able to do was silently cry and wish he knew where his family was, wish they weren't one of the people making that awful racket.

Sleep definitely eluded him, but that was expected, what with all the noise and the gripping fear of the unknown. There was no way in hell he'd get some rest that night. Time marched on slowly and what he assumed was the next morning, shit only deteriorated. A guard banged ruthlessly on the iron bars of their cell, shouting for them to rise and shine. Totally unnecessary. He'd never gone to sleep and he was sure his cell mate hadn't, either. After that, they were shackled, removed from their cramped quarters and hustled off to who knows where. That was right about the time Ichigo noticed that the old prison didn't have any windows. Artificial light from hanging lamps was the only way they were able to see enough to get around. Not that they needed it; they had personalized escorts toting assault rifles, leading them in single file down an intimidating corridor that was lined with more cells. The people inside them stared balefully through the bars with wide, horror-stricken eyes as Ichigo's line went past. He felt bad for them, but he felt even worse for himself. Where were they going?

He soon found that their destination was an old mess hall, where former prisoners had taken their meals. He was forced to stand in line at the food counter, then handed a tray with decent-looking eats. Had the circumstances been different, he probably would've wolfed down the rice and steak stir-fry. However, he didn't have an appetite and ended up sitting at a table, staring at the tray of food like it was about to eat him instead.

More of those guards patrolled the mess hall with their weapons, and since the hall was a little brighter than the corridors, he had time to take a good look at their captors. They didn't wear those hulking helmets anymore, which made it easier to see exactly what they looked like. They were strange alright, just like his father'd told him before... As soon as the thought came, he swallowed back a wave of anguish. In order for him to get through this, he couldn't dwell on what he couldn't change.

The guards...they all had albino-pale skin. Their hair colors varied, but their skin-tone never did. It was like they didn't know the concept of a tan. They were all scary, but fortunately, they didn't have the teeth. Ichigo would never be able to forget the teeth.

After the meal, they were lined up again and taken back to their cells, but this time by a different route. He'd never forget that moment, either; it was his first encounter with the harvesting process, but it wouldn't be the last, he'd later find out. A big room that stretched the length of one corridor and was walled in by large, glass windows soon appeared. Ichigo assumed it had to have been the prison's infirmary. He shuddered, eyes getting big and round as they shuffled by. Ten tables: vertical. People were strapped to them, expressions beyond fearful, which was completely justified. There were tubes running from both their arms, tubes that'd once been clear, but were now filled with red.

Blood.

This was the origin of the screams and moans and haunting wails he'd heard all night. Ichigo watched, stunned, as the people thrashed and put up as much a fuss as possible, but it was futile. Not only were they strapped in place with thick leather restraints, but there were guards in that room as well. Even if they managed escape, they'd probably be shot or wrestled back down.

The line stopped moving to watch, more than likely paralyzed with disgusted terror. The entire process resembled blood transfusions, what with the bags hanging from IV poles, quickly filling with crimson life source. But...it didn't stop after a certain amount was drawn. There was one person – a man – who was fighting with all his might, but gradually slowed until he stopped moving altogether. After that, his body convulsed a few times, then lay still again. For good. Ichigo felt hot, unexpected tears forming in his eyes as he looked away. Just in time, too. The guards of their line came around, grins enormous and sadistic as they nudged them into movement with their rifles.

What the hell was that all about? Fuck, he'd just watched a man die. And for what? Why were those guards taking their blood? And then, it all started making a little more sense. Well, more sense in a still kind of unbelievable way. The teeth. The blood. He shook his head. _No_. He was just scared, that was all. He wouldn't let the crippling fear he felt make him think up absurd notions. There _had_ to be a perfectly logical explanation for what was going on in that room. Maybe the terrorists were using those few people as examples and everyone else were hostages. See? That made a _helluva_ lot more sense. More than what he'd been thinking just a second ago, anyway.

Not too long after his first run-in with the harvesting process, they fell into a routine: sitting in their cells, eating, and using that humiliating and revolting toilet. They were bathed every two days, and let out into the yard for exercise the same. Ichigo noticed they were only let out at night; hell, it'd been forever since he'd seen the sun, felt warmth on his skin. It was ridiculously depressing, but even sadder: he got used to it. At first he'd been scared shitless, wondering if it would be his turn that day for the harvesting room – that's what the guards called it – but then he learned to accept the inevitable. He wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, not with those guards crawling all over the place. He didn't have a weapon and even if he used his knowledge of karate, they'd still overpower him. They had firepower; he had a very mortal body. Not much of an advantage.

So, he sat on his hands with nothing better to do. He didn't want to think of how this would all end: with him either in the harvesting room, or rotting away in a filthy cell. He didn't want to think of his family, whom he hadn't seen since the night he'd been snatched from his bedroom. He didn't _want_ to, but it happened anyway. Would he be one of the lucky ones and escape the harvesting room? Or would he be taken there to be drained like a pus-filled sore? Would he die on a table never knowing where his father and sisters were? Would he ever see them again? Were they even still alive? Oppressive shit like that kept him from sleeping, leaving him with dark circles under his eyes. He didn't know what time it was, what day, what month. Hell, he felt displaced and numb.

And then, he was given a job by one of the guards that "liked" him. It happened kind of suddenly and right after his cell mate had been "disposed of." Ichigo hadn't seen it – thank goodness – but one minute the guy was there in line for food, and the next he was gone. He hadn't returned to their cell and Ichigo assumed he'd either been killed, or taken to the harvesting room, which was the same damned thing as being killed, just slower. What bothered him was the fact that it _hadn't_ bothered him, if that made any sense. His circumstances had turned him into a self-serving monster.

The guard that gave him a job had introduced himself by the name of Shirosaki. That was it. No last name, just Shirosaki. After that, the guy told Ichigo to call him "Shiro" because he hated when people used his full name. Whatever. The guy had a gun, so "Shiro" it was. Shiro had the guards' trademark pale skin, but his hair was ash-white and his eyes... They were his strangest feature, hands down. Yellow-gold irises seem to float in black sclera. It was disturbing as hell and made him the scariest-looking one of the guards.

But Ichigo never put up a fuss towards the guards; instead he watched. As time went on, he figured maybe he could learn something by being observant. Maybe even escape. _Ha!_ Wishful fucking thinking. But he did latch on to the observing thing. He also learned from others' mistakes. There were some people that tried to fight, tried to resist, but they were either forced into what they were told to do, or killed without hesitation. Ichigo's goal was to avoid the latter, so he went along with the program like a good little boy. He ate his meals quickly and in silence (after the first few missed meals, his body had begun protesting strongly against his campaign not to eat), he let himself be bathed, if that's what they wanted to call it. It was more like being handed a hotel-sized bar of soap and then sprayed with a blast of cold water for five minutes. He meandered the grassy yard whenever they were let out, never mingling, just enjoying the night air as much as he could before being hauled back inside. He even used that embarrassing toilet. Hell, he had no other choice. And with his diligent obedience came a few nuggets of knowledge.

He'd overheard a conversation between a few other guards one night in the yard that went something like this:

_**Guard 1: **"How long we gotta keep the humans here?"_

_**Guard 2: **"Long as they tell us ta."_

_**Guard 1: **"Damn. Why don' they do this shit therselves?"_

_**Guard 2: **"Don' be stupid! Ya heard what they called us, didncha? Ta them, we're jus' ghouls."_

_**Guard 1: **"Self-righteous assholes!"_

_**Guard 2: **"Shut up fer somebody hears ya!"_

Ichigo remembered that conversation all too clearly. He'd been shocked at two words: humans and ghouls. From that little pow-wow, he'd understood that the guards weren't humans, but "ghouls." It didn't make sense and made Ichigo feel more than a fool. Maybe they were just nicknames that the terrorists – he was convinced that's who the guards worked for – used amongst themselves to determine rank and whatnot. That made a helluva lot more sense than where his thoughts had been ready to go.

With that knowledge came the realization that the guards were indeed working for a higher power. One they didn't necessarily carry fond feelings towards. But wasn't every hierarchy like that? It was almost always the reason for revolutions and resistances. He also overheard a guard saying the current date to one of his comrades a while back and from there, Ichigo'd started counting the days, ticking them off on his cell wall with a plastic spork he'd kept from the mess hall. He was sure he could get into heaps of trouble for doing so, but he didn't care. It was currently September twenty-first, two-thousand two. He'd been in this hell-hole for three months. He'd missed his birthday. Fuck, he'd turned sixteen in a place fit for animals and much worse. He probably wouldn't even live to see seventeen. Good thing he'd lost his virginity a year back; it would've been a crime of epic proportions if he hadn't. But long story short, he'd been in the middle of adapting when Shiro'd made his proposition.

"Hey, human. Wha's yer name?"

Ichigo whipped around and stared at the guard, eyes narrowing. He remembered that voice from his first night in Purgatory, the voice from the van that'd sounded like it was under water. Why did he want to know Ichigo's name? So far, from what he'd seen, the guards hadn't been interested in calling them anything – except maybe "you there."

He shrugged and continued to eye the guard warily. "Ichigo."

"Ichigo, eh? Well, Ichigo, mah name's Shirosaki."

The first thing that almost slipped from his mouth was "So?" but then he thought better of it. Shirosaki had a gun, after all.

"OK."

"Heh. Ya look bored, Ichigo. Wanna job?"

That made him straighten his back and drill a hole through the albino guard's head with his eyes. What kind of _job?_ Was it _really_ a job, or just some ploy in getting him to come peacefully to the harvesting room?

"Job?" was all he dryly managed. He didn't want to question the guard, but he didn't want to walk into certain disaster without knowing it, either.

"Yeah...job," Shirosaki repeated, amused. Then, he lowered his rifle, letting it hang from the strap across his chest, and smiled. "Look, we been told ta find some humans ta work in the blood banks. They can't be rowdy er resistant, an' they def'ly gotta be obedient. Now, I been watchin' ya, an' ya seem ta fit the bill. So...how 'bout it? Wanna chance ta get off the farm?"

Ichigo frowned and studied the guard. There were a couple things he wanted to know. For instance: what blood banks? And what did Shirosaki mean by "get off the farm?" He didn't want to fall for any tricks, but if that statement meant what he thought it did, he wanted to know. If he had even a minimal chance of getting out of this place, he was taking it. He'd already gone through a heavy bout of denial before coming to accept the fact that his family might be dead. The thought actually kept him relatively sane at night. If they were already dead, then they wouldn't have to endure the same things he did. They didn't have to worry about him constantly, they didn't have to be treated like animals, didn't have to face the very real fear of the harvesting room.

"What do I gotta do?" he asked quietly. He hadn't used his voice in so long, it husked and ached as it came out.

Shirosaki smiled and his strange eyes gleamed. "Ya don' gotta _do_ nothin', Ichigo. Tha's the best part. I'll come fer ya tanight."

Well, no, that didn't sound ominous as hell at all.

Ichigo pursed his lips and settled onto his bunk. Since he no longer had a cell mate, it made using the bathroom and sleeping a lot easier. He didn't have to be kept awake by constant praying, and didn't have to worry about eyes on him while he did his business. He hated to sound callous since his cell mate was more than likely dead, but in his opinion, death was better than this...meager existence. Infinitely.

**XxxxxX**

He didn't even realize he'd fallen asleep until he was jerked awake by the metallic clanging of something against the bars of his cell. He instantly shot up, eyes wide and heart galloping. He didn't relax upon seeing Shirosaki standing in front of him, pale hands in the pockets of his uniform.

"Well, shit, Ichigo. Don' look _too_ happy ta see me. Ya might make me blush er somethin'," the guard grinned.

Ichigo slowed his breathing and clenched and released his hands at his sides. "Where're you taking me?"

Shirosaki pulled a hand free from his pocket and glanced down at a slip of paper. "Blood bank two-fourteen." With that, he locked eyes with Ichigo again. "Ya ready?"

"Where's the blood bank?"

"Woo! Yer jus' fulla questions tanight, ain'tcha?"

"I just...I just wanna know where I'm going."

Shirosaki must've seen something in his face because his grin spread. "Yer not goin' ta the harvestin' room. Don' worry."

"That's not very reassuring," Ichigo muttered, oddly settling into something resembling comfort around the peculiar guard.

"Haha! Tha's why I like ya, Ichigo. Knew there was somethin' special 'boutcha."

He didn't even bother responding to that for two reasons: one, he didn't know what to say and two, he wasn't sure Shirosaki was as nice as he portrayed. Still...

"Fine," he said, voice low as he eyed the guard. "I'll go."

"Good!" Shiro instantly piped up. "Trus' me, Ichigo, yer gonna be glad ya took my offer."

_Trust_ him? Was he _crazy?_ There was no way in hell Ichigo trusted anyone in this God-forsaken place; he was just willing to take a chance that might lead him away from terminal insanity. If he stayed in this prison, his mind would warp before twisting out of his head. He refused to die a madman. No, he didn't trust Shiro at all. He was merely a participant in this sudden game of survival of the fittest, and he was determined to win.

The bars slid away and Shiro entered the cell, wide mouth stretched into a so-happy-it-bordered-on-deranged grin. He held up a set of regular handcuffs, letting them swing back and forth in the space between himself and Ichigo.

"Sorry, I gotta put these on ya. Rules're rules, ne?"

Ichigo nodded and Shiro stepped behind him, pulling his arms behind his back as he went. Once the handcuffs were snapped into place, the guard led him out of the cell by his locked hands. He noticed that he and Shiro were the same height as they walked almost shoulder-to-shoulder, and that the guy smelled like grass on a Summer day. It was interesting. He'd expected some type of cologne, or maybe soap; not such an earthy scent. They moved silently down the halls, the other guards merely lifting eyebrows as they progressed. However, as he and Shiro passed more cells, the people inside them looked out at Ichigo with pity-filled gazes. They probably thought he was headed for the harvesting room. Hell, one guy looked like he'd been on the verge of saying "dead man walking" as they shuffled by. Ichigo sincerely hoped Shiro was keeping his word and transporting him to a blood bank, where he would have a job and be out of immediate danger of the harvesting room. If not...well, he'd be pissed. Helpless as an infant, but pissed.

Shaking his head a bit, he cleared it and let himself be led down another winding corridor. This one seemed like a distant memory, but nonetheless familiar. At first, he didn't know why, but then he saw the sorting aisles: the passages he'd walked through upon entering the prison three months ago. Shiro was telling the truth! Even if he wasn't going to a blood bank, he was getting the hell "off the farm" as the guard put it, and that was infinitely more appealing than staying on it. Excitement made it easier for him to keep a clear head. Once he left, he would keep his ears to the ground and keep his eyes open for news of his old man and sisters. Even though he hoped they were dead rather than being locked away in the prison, he couldn't completely give up hope. Maybe they'd never been toted to the prison to begin with. God, he hoped not.

Shiro led him past the big metal door everyone used to enter the winding corridors and over instead to another metal door a few meters from the first. He paused and gently turned Ichigo facing away before the soft sounds of consecutive beeps were heard. After that, a lock gave and a metallic groan sounded through the echoing halls.

"OK, Ichigo," he said, strong hand going back to Ichigo's wrists where the handcuffs kept them together.

Again, they were on the move. The door slammed behind them with a deafening clang, making Ichigo involuntarily flinch. Shiro glanced over at him with a sideways smirk that he steadfastly ignored the hell out of. It seemed no matter the guard's mood, his grins and smiles always appeared predatory. Like he was waiting for the perfect time to eat Ichigo up. He gulped down those thoughts and focused straight ahead. No sense tempting fate with this crazy ass scenario. He'd been snatched from his home, separated from his family, then forced to endure what seemed like the Japanese version of the Holocaust. The idea of Shiro wanting to eat him like Hannibal Lecter didn't really seem too far-fetched. In fact, it was pretty spot-on, even if he did firmly deny on a daily basis the teeth he'd seen in his bedroom.

Another hundred meters and they were passing through the four-door entrance of the prison. As soon as they stepped outside, a cool breeze rustled Ichigo's hair and slipped beneath his uniform, making him pause and soak it in, eyes closed and head tilted back. The moon poured its milky ambiance over him and it was the best thing next to the sun he'd get, so he relished it. Amazingly, Shiro let him indulge for a few seconds.

"Think ya'd be used ta the night by now, Ichigo," that watery voice filtered through his bliss.

He nodded and opened his eyes. "Yeah, but it always feels good to get outta that building."

For a minute, Shiro studied the moon with serious gold and black eyes. "Hate ta be the bearer a'bad news, Ichigo, but yer gonna hate the night soon."

He frowned. Death knoll much? Holy shit. Shiro'd just sent the fear of the Lord running through his veins like ice water. He had to say, it didn't feel too good.

"Why?"

Like a cloud rolling past the moon, the somber expression faded from the guard's face and he beamed that mega-watt, creep grin at Ichigo. "Welp, time's a'tickin', Fire-locks. Le's skedaddle."

In other words, _I've said too much, so ignore it_, Ichigo thought bitterly. He had a feeling Shiro'd been about to tell him something really juicy. Fuck. He hated going at things blindly.

He was led through the parking lot towards a black sedan with darkly tinted windows. Once there, Shiro opened the back passenger door and gestured for Ichigo to have a seat. He glared at the guard, indicating with his eyes that that might be a bit of a chore with the handcuffs keeping his hands together. Yeah, he wasn't too fond of taking a spill, even if it _was_ onto comfy-looking leather seats.

"Ah, watch yer head."

Shiro put a hand at the back of Ichigo's head and steadied him with the other on his shoulder as Ichigo lowered himself into the car. It smelled like leather, expensive brandy and wildness. He couldn't really explain that last one, but that was all he could come up with. It was musky, dark, animal-like. It even had an undertone of sultry thrown in and served as a veritable turn-on. He leaned back in the seat as Shiro shut the door and skipped to the other side of the sedan. When he jumped in next to Ichigo, that was when the driver turned around and grinned. He had a narrow face, an even wider grin than Shiro's, and a bandana over his left eye. The visible one was violet and gleaming with intrigue.

"So, this the one ya picked, eh?" he asked, voice a gruff tenor.

"Yep. Cute, ain't he?"

The driver cracked a grin similar to a spread of ivory piano keys. "Mmm. Love the hair, hun."

Ichigo didn't even have time to stifle the growl that erupted from his chest. He'd caught shit his whole life over his hair and he wasn't about to take it from a manic-looking stranger. Then, he realized that by the stranger's attire, the man was definitely a guard. Time to tread softly. Shiro glanced over at him with his own signature smirk before ruffling his hair almost affectionately. Like someone would a pet. It rankled Ichigo even more, but that he kept to himself. He'd gotten around being killed this long; no need to speed things up.

"Don't worry. Nnoitra's harmless," the ashen-haired guard stated.

"In yer dreams, Shiro," Nnoitra snorted as he turned forward again.

The car started over Shiro's cackle and they motored away, Ichigo on pins and needles. He was still unsure of his fate, at this point, even though Shiro had assured him he was going to a better place. A blood bank. Hopefully, the guy was right. Hell, any place had to be better than the prison and its harvesting room. He shuddered and gave his attention to the things flying past outside the window. He'd grown up in this town, but now it seemed almost entirely different. Sure, there were still stores and houses, but it looked like an old western ghost town. He half expected tumbleweeds to go rolling by. No one roamed the streets, none of the stores' lights were lit, and there were black vans parked on every corner. Karakura had been transformed into the aftermath of a war – except the war was still raging.

They passed the high school and it made his gut twinge. He never thought he'd actually miss the place, but there it was. Nostalgia and sorrow threatened to overwhelm him, but he swallowed it down. No point in crying over spilled milk. There was nothing he could do about his current predicament. He sighed softly, trying to keep it under wraps, but Shiro heard him anyway. The guard leaned towards Ichigo, strange smell coming with him.

"Ya know that place?" he asked.

"Went to school there," he grunted, surly. He wasn't really in the mood to talk.

"Ugh. Bet yer glad ya don' gotta go back, huh?"

Quite the contrary, but Shiro didn't need to know that. Instead of his first response, Ichigo went with a nod instead. Better safe than sorry. The car picked up speed after rounding a corner, deserted homes flying past. He missed his house. He missed sleeping in his bed, waking to Yuzu's breakfasts, sharing small, sporadic conversations with Karin, and kicking the shit out of his old man. He'd probably never get to do any of that again, and the realization sent a plummeting rock through his gut. Yet again, he angrily wondered why all of this had to happen to Japan. To him and his family. It wasn't fair, but he wouldn't be a brat and whine about it. Life wasn't fair and he'd just have to get used to that.

Suddenly, the car pulled to a stop in front of Karakura's public library. He frowned, confused. This wasn't a blood bank. A sense of betrayal tugged at the back of his mind, but it was too late to rescind his decision now. He had no choice except to go along with whatever Shiro had in store for him. God, if he was going to his death, he hoped it would be quick.

"Welcome ta yer new home, Ichigo," Shiro chirped, grin seemingly pasted to his pale face. "Le's get ya settled in, eh?"

He didn't respond. What was he supposed to say? It wasn't like he could tell the guard no at this point. Shiro left the car, came around to his side and opened the door. He was even a gentleman and helped Ichigo out onto the blacktop. After teasingly straightening Ichigo's uniform, Shiro nudged him in the direction of the large, light-gray, stone building. They rounded the car, hit the sidewalk, then hit the stairs leading to the colossal wooden double doors. Ichigo took a deep breath and glanced behind him. Nnoitra and the car motored off, so it was just him and Shiro. When he turned forward, he noticed something out of place. Shiro stood beside the doors at a complicated-looking keypad, a white, credit card style badge in his hand. He swiped it through the system and placed his hand to the dark screen. A glowing, bright green light slid under it from right to left, then left to right, apparently scanning it. Then the system gave two short beeps and the doors to the library groaned open. Well, that was new. He'd never had to do that anytime he'd gone to the library in the past. He stood rooted to the stairs until Shiro looked back at him and grinned.

"Don' be shy now. C'mon."

Ichigo sighed and followed the guard into the building. Immediately he noticed a drastic difference to the interior. Gone were the muted lights, the wooden tables and shelves, gone was the subtle scent of potpourri and aged paper, and gone was the wide receptionist counter. Well, no, that wasn't quite right. The counter was still there, but in place of the warm-hearted, dark-haired librarian stood a tall, pale guard. His hair was long and pure white, and his eyes were amber and almost amiable. Behind him was a gray wall advertising, "Branch 214", lit with fluorescent bulbs. As Ichigo surveyed the old library, he realized that there were silver machines resembling refrigerators all over the place. They were situated in rows and each one had a glowing, electric-blue light shining tranquilly on the top of it. He guessed that's where the shelves had gone. Everything smelled sterile and crisp, making his nose itch. He wrinkled it before focusing in front of him again, and staring at the guard at the front counter. The man smiled as Ichigo and Shiro approached.

"Yes?" he asked, voice deep and paternal.

"Hey, Ukitake. Got a worker fer ya," Shiro answered while digging through his left pocket.

"Ah," Ukitake noised as he gave Ichigo a swift but thorough once-over. "Obedient?"

Shiro nodded. "Yeah, ya won' get any problems from this guy. Right, Ichigo?"

How tactful. He sure as hell wasn't about to say no, so he nodded. Shiro finally found what he'd been searching for and handed it over to Ukitake. It was the same slip of paper he'd read from in Ichigo's cell back at the prison. Ukitake looked at it and raised a dark eyebrow.

"Kurosaki, Ichigo?" he rumbled.

"Yes."

"Are you familiar with computers?"

Ichigo fought a frown, but it won the battle as he nodded carefully. What the hell did that have to do with anything? And who _wasn't_ familiar with computers this day and age? Weird question. Ukitake hummed, then nodded as if he were thinking over something particularly difficult.

"Take him to Sector Two and have him decently attired. We don't want one of the masters seeing him dressed like _that_," Ukitake said with a tip of his pointed chin. His expression and tone clearly belied his distaste for Ichigo's prison uniform. Ichigo almost laughed.

_I don't like it much, either, buddy_.

Shiro nodded with an exaggerated salute, to which Ukitake just shook his head and rolled his somber eyes. After that, Ichigo was led left to a silver elevator that hadn't existed before. But maybe he should get used to that; it seemed like the library had undergone an extreme makeover, and not necessarily for the better, either. The elevator arrived instantly and he and Shiro boarded. It took his a second, but he noticed with amusement that soft classical music played in the background. He looked over at Shiro, surprised to see the guard watching him, equally amused.

"They like music too," he said before turning his attention to the panel beside the doors. He hit two and the elevator jerked into motion.

"Uh," Ichigo started hesitantly. He didn't want to step on any toes with the question he had in mind. "Who's they?"

Shiro's grin turned shit-eating as he stuffed his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. "You'll fin' out soon enough."

Suddenly, Ichigo didn't give two flying bat-fucks whether he stepped on any toes or not. "I gotta say, Shirosaki, this mysterious shit is gettin' old," he grumbled.

Shiro gave a full-bellied witch cackle, strange eyes gleaming with mirth as the elevator came to a stop. And then he sobered up and scared the living shit out of Ichigo. Before the doors opened up, Shiro wrapped a hand around Ichigo's throat, his strength making the orange-haired teen hit the wall, eyes wide and terrified.

"Man, I wish I was one a'them. Maybe I could keep ya fer myself," the guard breathed in his face. "Wouldn' that be nice?"

All Ichigo could do was focus on breathing and not pissing himself. It was excruciatingly tough. Shirosaki was powerful as hell, almost inhumanly so, and that just lent an extra "umph" to his words. With an abrupt grin, Shiro let him go and went back to being his normal, playful self. The doors to the elevator slid open and he stepped out with a backward, expectant look.

"Ya comin'?"

Ichigo blinked, still frightened, still slightly shaking, and altogether wary of the guard. And _that_ ladies and gentlemen, was precisely why he didn't trust the pale-haired man. He'd foolishly let his guard down and look what it'd gotten him. A sore throat and shaky legs. He took a couple foal-like steps forward, urging himself on and convincing himself he wasn't about to die that very second. He didn't want to go, but what were his choices? Especially now that he knew Shiro was unpredictable and strong enough to snap him in half without even thinking about it. He didn't realize he'd stopped until Shiro was right in front of him, smirk lopsided and charming.

"Did I scare ya, Ichigo?" he asked softly, that watery voice making goosebumps race across Ichigo's skin.

"Yes," he answered honestly before he had time to think about it. Fear danced through his gut as he thought about the possible repercussions for his actions.

"Didn' mean ta. Jus' got a lil jealous, s'all. Ther damned lucky ta have somebody like ya."

He still didn't know who "they" were, didn't understand how he _belonged_ to someone, but right now he was more concerned with the volatile guard in front of him. Shiro seemed to be honest-to-God apologetic, but Ichigo refused to be swayed. The guy was a homicide waiting to happen. No sense pushing his luck.

"C'moooon, I won' hurtcha again. Promise."

What? Like hell he'd believe that. That was like the wolf telling the sheep it wouldn't eat them.

"Pinky swear," Shiro pestered, holding up his hand and sticking his little finger in the air.

Ichigo shook his head. He just wanted to get whatever was going to happen over and done with. If he was going to die, whether by the hands of Shiro, or whoever "they" were, it was best to let it be quick.

"Fine," he snapped with more bite than he'd intended.

Shiro smiled and moved on. "Ya know, ya kinda hurt my feelin's, Ichigo. Scared ta touch me?"

"Shirosaki, you choked me," Ichigo stated blandly.

"Yer right, but I toldja I didn' mean it. An' call me, Shiro. Shirosaki's what _they_ call me."

"They" again. He really needed to find out who these "they" people were.

**Bear with me, please. I have a structure in mind for this, so rushing me to introduce Grimmjow will only tick me off. Also, this ain't a Shiro/Ichi, so don't ask for it, thanks!**

**That being said...poor Ichigo.**

**Next time...**


	3. Chapter 3: Slice of Heaven

**CHAPTER 3: SLICE OF HEAVEN**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach...

Onwards...

XOXOXO

Finally, Shiro deigned to lead him to their destination, which was at the end of the long hall they'd been standing in. Another alarm system process and they were allowed passage into an enormous room, filled to bursting with computers. Everything was top of the line and high-tech as hell, and the place practically hummed with energy. Then, he took note of the people at the computers. They looked normal, with healthy skin tones and normal expressions; they didn't look like they were scared for their lives.

Just past the door stood another guard, this one short with dark hair in an asymmetrical bob-cut, and alarmingly feminine, periwinkle eyes. In fact, once Ichigo looked closely enough, he noticed the guy's petite body seemed to drip estrogen all over the floor. Even his voice was a musical tenor.

Shiro sneered at the man on sight. "Well, well. If it ain't mah fav'rite lil princess. How ya doin', Luppi?"

_Luppi? Ick_.

"Shirosaki. I thought your master would've disowned you by now," Luppi retorted silkily.

"I'm wounded, really," Shiro drawled before glancing around the room. "Where do I take him?"

Luppi finally gave Ichigo his attention and grinned. "Wow. You really stand out, don't you?" Ichigo wasn't in a talkative mood, so he just stood there, hopefully giving the shorter man the impression he was stupid. Or mute. Either was fine. "Ah, well. Take him across the room to the door back there," Luppi continued, pointing a delicate finger past Shiro's shoulder. "That's where he'll bathe and change – you know the masters are sensitive to smell and, well...he smells pretty bad. Then, he'll come back to me and I'll give him his access badge. You're free to go after that."

Ichigo watched Luppi speak with an air of wonder. He'd never seen someone so girlish that _wasn't_ actually a girl. It baffled him. Then what the guy'd said seeped into his brain. Bathe, change, quarters and access badge? It all sounded too good to be true. ...Unless the bathing process was similar to the prison's. That would be incredibly disappointing. He wanted to ask about it, but since he didn't know Luppi and didn't know how the guy might react, he remained silent.

Shiro gave Luppi a mock salute and strolled away towards the door indicated earlier. Ichigo followed mechanically, taking in the sideways, curious glances he received from the people at the computer stations. They weren't warnings or welcomes; more like simply inquiring. Interesting. That was much more encouraging than the chaos he'd experienced back at the prison. He was tempted to be optimistic, but chose to wait on it a bit more. In fact, better to get all this done with as quickly as possible.

He was taken through the secured door, where there were more normal people waiting on the other side. However, these people weren't seated at computers. They wore teal hospital scrubs and passed back and forth between ten tiled shower stalls. Each stall was separated with a white curtain and Ichigo thought he was further imagining things when he saw steam rising from within. His head whipped in Shiro's direction, absolutely certain that hope radiated from his face in shimmering waves. He couldn't help it.

"Please tell me I'm goin' in one of those," he pleaded, shameless.

Shiro nodded, grin epic. "Yep. Ay!" he shouted at one of the scrub-clad men passing. When the guy paused to acknowledge him, Shiro continued. "He needs the royal treatment."

The man looked Ichigo over and his eyes crinkled in the corners, indicating he was smiling beneath the surgeon's mask he wore. With a brief nod, he disappeared. Seconds later, he was back with an armful of fluffy towel, rag and a real bar of soap. Not a thin sliver that managed to disintegrate within minutes, but a true-blue bar of soap. Shit, he could smell it from where he stood and it made his mouth water. He hadn't felt genuinely clean in what felt like forever and his fingers itched to snatch the supplies out of the man's hands.

Shiro had mercy on him and undid the handcuffs, then urged him forward with a hand to the small of his back. Completely unnecessary. He'd already been moving forward on his own. He gently grasped the washing materials from the scrub-man, still a little nervous, but more eager than anything. Once he had the stuff in hand, he closed his eyes and had a moment. He buried his face in the feather-soft towel and inhaled lungful after lungful of the crisp fragrance of the soap. This was like a slice of heaven after what he'd gone through in that fucking prison. This one moment made him profoundly grateful to his scary guard. Had it not been for Shiro, he'd still be at that dreadful place.

He followed the scrub-man after lifting his face from the drugging effects of the towel and soap combined. He was taken to an empty stall, where the scrub-man slid the curtain shut behind him and Ichigo was allowed to adjust the setting of his own water. He was close to tears coming to that realization. It'd been so long since he'd experienced any form of true freedom, any form of choice. It was perilously similar to a time he'd almost forgotten. He stripped out of that annoying prison uniform, tossed it aside and stood under blessedly hot water. This time tears did find their way down the sides of his face, but just in case anyone witnessed his vulnerability, it was disguised by the water from the shower. He would never take the simple things in life for granted ever again.

**XxxxxX**

He hadn't wanted to leave the shower, but knew he couldn't press his luck. After the invigorating process, he dried himself and stepped out of the stall, towel wrapped around his waist. He still had a small amount of dignity left and wasn't too fond of Shiro seeing him in all his glory. Especially not after what'd occurred in the elevator. No way. The scrub-man returned and handed him a pair of black slippers. Ichigo held them in his hands and looked around uncertainly. He expected guards to swarm him and stuff him into another uniform, but that didn't happen. Shiro and the scrub-man watched him curiously, obviously waiting for him to slide the lounge shoes onto his feet. So, he did.

Afterward, the scrub-man led him around a corner from the showers, where another door was located. There it was unlocked and he was taken up a flight of stairs, then through another door. They trooped down a corridor that seemed to go on for miles, it was so long. After what felt like an eternity, the scrub-man stopped in front of a door labeled 7704. It was opened by the same type of security keypad used throughout the building and once the door slid open, the scrub-man gestured for him to move inside. During the small journey, Ichigo had completely forgotten about Shiro. Maybe because the guard had been so silent, Ichigo'd let his mind lose track of him. Ah, well. He had more pressing matters to tend to, such as the spacious room before him. A lavishly large bed posed in the middle of it, equipped with a blanket, sheet and pillow, both covers turned down invitingly. He almost drooled all over the gray carpet. This was like a five-star hotel compared to the prison's hideous cells and bunks.

He stepped inside and glanced around, his nose exceedingly grateful for the scent of "brand new" lingering in the air. Not to mention, the meticulous tidiness. Made him want to dance with joy, but he knew better. Maybe someone was watching and waiting for him to do just that before taking it all away. He'd be devastated, so he refrained from break dancing at the moment. He moved over to the bed and ran a rough hand over it, delighting in the soft texture of the comforter before turning back to the scrub-man and Shiro, both still standing in the doorway, watching him like a lion in a cage. He found it amusing.

"Yer bathroom's over there," Shiro pointed out as he leaned past the door and peered around. "That way ya don' gotta bother nobody when ya gotta do yer business late-night."

_I have my own bathroom?_ he thought as he followed Shiro's finger with his eyes.

The guard was right. Another door to his right stood wide open, revealing the stark white interior. A real toilet and sink winked back at him and gleamed like the polished porcelain it was. He even spotted a toothbrush and miracle of miracles: deodorant. He sat down hard on the bed, gathering his wits about him. This was like a parallel universe. One minute he was in hell and the next he was in heaven. It was enough to make any sane man suspicious, but for now, he was just going to enjoy the hell out of it.

"So, this guy says ya need some rest fer ya come down an' get yer access badge an' shit. Says yer fatigue's gonna slow ya down er whatever, so catch some Zs, Ichigo. Somebody'll come fetch ya tomorrow night," Shiro happily informed him.

Ichigo frowned, still leery and still confused. But then lethargy swept over him like it was obeying the guard's orders, making him yawn and glance longingly at the freshly made bed. He couldn't refuse an offer like that, even if it meant something fishy was going on. His mind gave another weak attempt at protesting, but his exhausted body flipped it the finger. He was bushed. They'd just have to kill him in his sleep if that's what they were up to.

"Whatever," he mumbled through another yawn.

The last thing he heard before his door whooshed shut was a quiet chuckle from Shiro. Ichigo didn't even have the presence of mind to remove the towel around his waist before climbing under the covers. He fell asleep before his head hit the pillow.

**XxxxxxX**

Someone was standing over him. He could feel it. And because he could feel it, he feigned sleep a little longer. He slowly inhaled through his nose, trying to decipher whether his visitor was Shiro; he'd be able to distinguish the guard's unique, earthy scent. However, when he did pull in air, he jumped in shock for two reasons: one, his guest clearly wasn't Shiro, but the scent was still eerily familiar; and two, after his determining inhalation, a rumbling chuckle floated over him, plainly amused.

_What the hell now?_

"You haven't been asleep for the last five minutes. Your breathing pattern changed the instant I stood over you," a deep voice drawled quietly.

_Time to get up, Ichigo_.

He rolled to his left, off the bed and away from the voice before straightening his back and glaring. Two things happened then. The towel that'd been barely clinging to his waist used that time to drift to the floor in seemingly slow motion, and his visitor laughed at him again. Painfully mortified, Ichigo stooped, snatched the towel from the floor, and threw it around his waist once more. He wanted to smack his forehead in embarrassed frustration, but his survival mode was in full throttle, leaving him high-strung and shaking with nerves. Instead, he glared across the bed at his intruder.

The man was tall and exuded a palpable aura of silent strength. He had shoulder-length, wavy brown hair, drowsy, arctic-gray eyes and a precisely trimmed beard. The man was smiling lazily as he stood with both hands tucked into the pockets of a slim-fitting pair of black jeans. Other than that, he wore a white, v-neck tee and black boots. Very casual, very nonchalant, but alarms were shrieking in Ichigo's mind, warning him otherwise.

"I'm here to welcome you to your new home," the man rumbled.

Ichigo frowned. "Uh, OK."

The man chuckled again, but this time Ichigo was able to watch him do so, and it nearly sent him into cardiac arrest. He choked on a gasp and took about five quick steps back, not really caring that he'd hit the wall two steps ago. Hell, he was ready to climb the damned thing after what he'd just seen.

The man rounded the bed and slowly strolled over to Ichigo, only to stop a couple feet away and cock his head to the side. Not that it would help, but Ichigo suddenly remembered why that scent was familiar to him. It was the same one he'd gotten a whiff of in the car on his way over from the prison. His heart climbed into his mouth and sat on his tongue, rendering him speechless and pretty much useless as well.

_Teeth_.

He hadn't been imagining a goddamned thing in his bedroom three months ago because this man had those dangerous-looking chompers too. Ichigo broke into a cold sweat and went back to unconsciously climbing the wall behind him. The man grinned again, gray eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Are you a squirrel?" he asked.

Ichigo stopped moving, heart racing like it had a souped up engine. What the fuck was the man – _was he really a man with teeth like that?_ – talking about? Oh God, he couldn't feel his fingers or toes and his whole body went clammy. He was so scared, he was surprised he wasn't shrieking like a banshee. As it was, he was very close to losing control of his bladder.

He refused to answer the man's question. Honestly, he didn't think he could if he tried.

The man smirked this time. "I can practically taste the fear on you, human, but don't worry. I'm not here to kill you...or bite you, for that matter."

Was that supposed to be _reassuring?_ Well, it wasn't. Not in the slightest. Not to mention, his budding hope that this was all a dream had swirled down the drain after hearing the man call him a human. _Fuck_, he internally spat. Sometimes denial just wasn't enough.

"Like I said: I'm here to welcome you to your new home."

Finally..._finally_, Ichigo found his voice as he ignored the man's previous statement. "Um," he croaked. "Am I gonna die here?"

He had to know. What was the point of being a good little boy if he was just going to be exterminated anyway?

"Haha! Humans," the man muttered almost affectionately. "Always so afraid of death. But no, you're not going to die here. At least, not by my hands."

_What? Un-fucking-acceptable!_

The man continued. "I'm Starrk, by the way. Nice to meet you."

Ichigo stared at the outstretched hand like it was a poisonous snake. There was no way in hell he was shaking it. Fuck that shit.

Starrk pulled his hand away with another amiable grin. "Fair enough. There are items in the closet that you can wear. Do so. A worker will be here to escort you to your new station in five minutes."

Starrk turned and sauntered over to the door, opened it, then disappeared behind it. Ichigo still didn't allow himself to relax. True, there was a chance what the brunet had told him was factual and that Ichigo really wasn't going to die here, but bigger than that was the very loud presence of fangs in the man's mouth. Ichigo was losing all hope of being able to comfortably deny the existence of creatures he'd always thought were fiction. Scary stories and movies. Myth. Legend. All elements that left the notion of "make-believe" sticking to your brain, had been blown away like fucking smoke in a hurricane.

_So, now what, genius?_ he thought bitterly. _That's easy_, he subconsciously quipped back. _Survival_.

He waited another beat or two before moving over to the closet Starrk had indicated. He paused in front of it, not sure whether he wanted to open the harmless enough white door. After staring at it for a while, he chuckled under his breath. He'd seen people killed via blood drainage, had his family and friends taken away from him, lived in an inhumane environment for around three months, and last but _certainly_ not least, been formally introduced to a fanged creature from fantasy. Yet, here he stood, afraid to open a measly little closet door? He gave another small grin that he was sure bordered on manic, then reached forward and wrenched the door open. Nothing jumped out at him, nothing growled like a rabid dog. In fact, it was a pretty normal closet, albeit a tad dark. He glanced around for some type of light and finally found a switch on the wall to his left. He flicked it and blinked a few times. _Well...that's interesting_, he thought as he stared at the abundance of navy-blue khakis and white dress shirts draped over wooden hangers. A line of black slippers identical to the ones he'd worn last night were positioned strategically on the floor right beneath the pants and shirts.

So, he supposed he knew what his new uniform consisted of. He fingered the soft cotton of one of the dress shirts and sighed. It was a helluva sight better than the prison uniform he'd been forced to wear, that was for sure. After contemplating the clothes a bit longer, he peeked at the tags and selected a size that was close to his own. The shirt was a little snug and the pants were tighter than he was used to, but he managed to slip into the outfit without incident. And right on time too. No sooner than he'd buttoned the pants, a soft knock sounded at his room door. His head turned as he glanced at it, heart squeezing and settling into a swift trot. He didn't really want to move forward from this point. As a matter of fact, he'd be content to remain right where he was. However, he knew that was nothing but wishful thinking and really, he didn't look forward to another encounter with the brown-haired man with fangs. He steadfastly refused to put a name to what he knew the guy was. It would make everything too real and right now, he planned to avoid the concept of real. He was satisfied considering the whole situation to be a joke. It was a bad one, of course, but still a joke, nonetheless.

He shuffled over to the door and took a deep, cleansing breath before sliding it open. He instantly relaxed at the sight of the dark-haired, feminine man from the previous night. Luppi wasn't it? Periwinkle eyes winked back at him, glimmering under the bright lighting of his room.

"You look a lot better, you know?" Luppi stated. "Last night you looked pretty bad and smelled even worse. Are you ready to get your access badge and learn where you'll be working?"

He talked fast and moved faster. Ichigo wondered just where the man had acquired such mannerisms, then blinked the thoughts away. He had to get his mind together. Apparently, he was stuck in the middle of a nightmare that just didn't know when the fuck to quit. Isolation, death, cruel treatment, and then to add insult to an insane injury, men with teeth sharp enough to cut steel. When was the madness going to stop? And then he thought about his old man. His sisters. Were they alive? Would he ever see them again? What about his friends? Would his life ever go back to the normalcy he was used to? After taking another close look at Luppi and then remembering Starrk and his teeth, he sincerely doubted anything would be the same. He was sure his life was on a fast track to no return and it depressed the hell out of him. What had he done to deserve this? What had _anyone_ done to deserve this? His thoughts inevitably went to the victims of the harvesting room at the prison. Had they had families as well? And if so, what'd happened to them?

"Helloooo?" Luppi's voice cut in impatiently.

When Ichigo refocused on the shorter man, he realized he was being glared at. Luppi's right foot tapped against the carpet while his left hand rested on his hip. Any other time, Ichigo would've found the predicament quite funny. Now, however, it made him uneasy. What the hell was going to happen to him next? A sudden surge of anger boiled his insides, churning his gut and unsettling his nerves. Who the hell did these people think they were to just come and disrupt the general order of things? Fuck up thousands of people's lives? He'd always had a bad temper and had been in the process of learning to put a lid on it, but now, with his whole world turned upside down and tilted sideways, he felt like he had nothing left to lose. He hadn't seen his family in three months; hell, he didn't even know if they were still alive. How was he supposed to cope with that? He'd been a regular kid. Happy. Settled. Now he felt like a wild animal pushed into a corner and he was seconds away from attacking and tearing the closest being into strips of shredded flesh.

"I hate when they go all dumb," Luppi muttered, making the mistake of turning his back on Ichigo.

With a quiet snarl, Ichigo started to lunge forward, but was abruptly pulled up short when Luppi craned his neck and glanced at him over a thin shoulder. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," he crooned with a small smile. "You wouldn't want to go back to the prison, now would you?"

Honestly, that was all Ichigo needed to hear to have the sudden spell of "kill it please" surrounding him, broken. He lowered his hands that'd been raised and forming claws, then hung his head dejectedly. At that moment, where he felt more helpless than a newborn, he wished for death. It wasn't like he had his family to depend on him. If he died, no one would be the wiser and he wouldn't have to suffer this crippling amount of humiliation. It burned his stomach and made his chest hurt. He'd give anything just to have some accurate information. Even better – to see his sisters and old man again. With another wince at his helplessness, he slouched over to the side of his bed, slid his feet into his slippers and reappeared beside Luppi, head hanging and eyes trained on the floor.

"Ready?" the dark-haired guard chirped as if Ichigo hadn't been on the verge of ripping his face off a minute ago.

Ichigo didn't answer the rhetorical question; instead he followed behind the shorter man meekly, the entire procession reminding him that even though he'd left the horrors of that ancient prison, he was still a fucking prisoner.

**XxxxxxX**

"Access the mainframe like such...then store the information that comes through on the fax machine at your station. Easy enough, right?" Luppi asked, turning bright eyes in Ichigo's direction.

He nodded. Sure thing. Easy as a slut on New Year's Eve. No problem. However, his mind was far from the task at hand. He'd never felt so low, so _worthless_ in his life. Not even the time Keigo'd kissed him in front of a girl he'd liked could top this. Ichigo was used to fighting, protesting, speaking up, rebelling. He had a hot head and quick fists to back up his righteous fury. No one really fucked with him in school or otherwise and he'd been comfortable in that position. Now...he was a shrimp already steamed and ladled with butter and garlic sauce, just waiting to be devoured. There was absolutely nothing he could do to change his predicament and it ate him up from the inside out. It felt like acid biting away at his gut, eroding his entrails. It seared his esophagus, causing a large lump to form there and grow. He felt frustrated tears stinging his eyes, but forced them back with a few deep breaths. He refused to let these monsters see him weak, see him vulnerable. He was positive they'd enjoy it.

"You'd better get your head out of the clouds, Lover Boy," Luppi interrupted quietly, eyes urgent for a change. It startled Ichigo into actually paying attention. The dark-haired guard continued in a whisper, "Don't outright resist, but still show no weakness. You'll be dead in less than a week."

_Was the guy trying to help him?_ Ichigo thought as he narrowed his eyes and considered Luppi. Lavender eyes practically screamed concern...and then it was gone. The change occurred so abruptly, it made Ichigo flinch. What the hell?

He watched carefully as Luppi slowly climbed to his feet and walked away. His stride held its normal flamboyant bounce, keeping up the facade that nothing had ever happened. It was very strange. Ichigo sat back in the cushioned burgundy chair and tried to figure out whether Luppi was an ally or not. Discreetly, he watched the guard for the rest of the night, but the dark-haired man didn't even bother to glance his way. Luppi remained at his post, offering charming smile after charming smile to the coming and going guards.

It seemed like forever before an alarm beeped from the computer monitor in front of Ichigo. He rubbed his tired eyes and glanced at it, confused. What now? He hadn't done anything wrong, so why was his equipment making a racket? Before he could fiddle with the keyboard or mouse, a scrub-man materialized beside him, making him jump hard enough to bite the crap out of his tongue. The man leaned over his shoulder and hit a few keys on the keyboard, which cut the noise of the alarm instantly. Ichigo turned to the guy with a sheepish grin as he rubbed the back of his neck. It was an old habit of his whenever he was embarrassed and he was sort of surprised to see it resurface.

"Sorry 'bout that," he chuckled uncomfortably.

The scrub-man's dark eyes crinkled in the corners as he nodded. He was apparently smiling beneath his surgeon's mask and the friendly behavior warmed Ichigo. Not only that, but being this close to the scrub-man, he sensed something familiar about him. Just as he tilted his head in contemplation, the man straightened his back and motioned for Ichigo to follow him. Nervous and flustered, his eyes darted around the room to see if anyone had caught the man's motions. He didn't know if he was supposed to follow the guy, didn't know if it was allowed, and he certainly wasn't about to get in trouble for it. But then he noticed several things at once: there were a few more scrub-men dotted throughout the room, standing behind other people, and Ichigo could hear the soft beeping of alarms at their stations. It all felt so ominous and thoughts of the harvesting room back at the prison sprang into his mind, making him seize up, eyes widening.

What the hell was going on?

"So, how was your first day of work?" Luppi asked from behind him.

He jumped again and whirled in his seat to face the smaller guard. "I, uh...what?"

"That little alarm goes off when your shift is done. Then, we have one of our Sanitizers escort you to the showers and back to your room. Dull stuff, huh?"

Ichigo slowly relaxed, muscles unbunching and shoulders slumping. He'd been wound up, ready to fight or flee, images of the harvesting room making him paranoid as hell. So, he wasn't going to die just yet, then? He blew out a relieved breath and nodded at Luppi.

"It's fine," he issued quietly. "Perfectly fine."

The scrub-man, or Sanitizer rather, shifted beside him, reminding him that he was supposed to be in motion. So, with a mock salute to Luppi, Ichigo rose and meandered behind the Sanitizer, heart finally reaching a pace that wasn't lethal. They weaved through the other computer stations until they reached the door at the back of the room, leading to the showers. Once past it, he was again handed a large towel, rag and bar of soap, and again he took his time languishing under the hot spray of water. It worked out the kinks in his back and shoulders, and made him yearn for the soft, clean bed in his room. He hadn't realized just how tired he was.

He stepped out of the pristine white stall and gladly stepped into a fresh pair of slippers. "They" undeniably wanted things kept immaculate, which was fine by him. He preferred it to the disgusting state of the prison. Just thinking of that place made a harsh shudder rip down his spine. He could definitely get used to this place and its more humane routine.

The Sanitizer led the way to room 7704, where he paused and took a step back. He lifted a hand and held up Ichigo's access badge that he'd forgotten in his clothes down in the showers. Another sheepish grin crossed his lips as he took the ID card. The Sanitizer's eyes crinkled again, sending that wonderful feeling of familiarity racing over him one more time. But he didn't want to linger and end up causing suspicion, so he swiped the badge through the security pad and waited for the light on the panel to turn green. The door slid open afterward and Ichigo nearly ran inside, eager to get to bed. However, he pulled up short at the sight of a small table in the corner of the room that hadn't been there before. Not only that, but the table bore three, silver-domed platters, each one a different size. The largest one was set in the middle, while the two smaller platters flanked its sides. A pitcher of something purple sat next to the tempting platters. And then Ichigo noticed the smell. It was heavenly and leading him towards the table by his nose. He wasn't even sure his feet were touching the floor as he drifted over.

He stopped himself right before touching the biggest platter. "This is mine, right?" he asked the Sanitizer, who stood just inside the room. The man nodded, eyes crinkling yet again. Ichigo grinned himself, stomach giving a noisy gurgle as he lifted the top from the platter. "Oh my God, _yes_," he breathed.

He inhaled deeply through his nose and licked his lips ravenously at the sight of grilled fish and vegetables. He'd been so preoccupied with watching Luppi earlier for signs of alliance, he hadn't even realized how hungry he was. He hadn't eaten all day, but he – without a doubt – planned to make up for it now. He hunkered down at the one cushioned, wooden chair at the table, towel still draped around his waist. From there, he proceeded to barbarically consume the food on all three platters before downing the entire contents of the pitcher. The purple stuff was slightly sweet, like watered down grape juice, but he didn't care. Once he was done, he sat back in the seat and rubbed his stomach, full to bursting. And then he realized he still had company.

The Sanitizer's eyes were crinkled as he stood near the door, watching Ichigo with his arms shaking at his sides. Something wasn't right. Was the guy waiting for him to finish so he could clear the dishes? Or was Ichigo supposed to perform another task that he wasn't yet aware of? He sat forward in his seat and cocked his head to the side.

"Um, was there something else I was supposed to do?"

The Sanitizer shook his head, the teal shower cap on his head shifting with the short movement. Ichigo slowly climbed to his feet, that cozy feeling of fight or flight rapidly coursing through his veins. The man made him nervous with the way he just stood there and stared. Ichigo edged towards the bathroom, inch by inch, but the Sanitizer moved. He cautiously approached with arms held up in peace as Ichigo watched warily, ready to drop and sweep the guy off his feet if he made any sudden moves. Unlike the guards, the Sanitizer didn't have a gun.

When the man was within reaching distance – which was way too close for comfort in Ichigo's opinion – he did something strange. He glanced around the room nervously, then pulled off the teal cap and white surgeon's mask. Ichigo nearly fainted as his eyes went round and his lips parted in pure shock.

"Dad?"

Isshin sucked in a quick breath and shot forward, thick arms surrounding his son tightly. "Ichigo," he choked.

He was numb. He absolutely couldn't move as he stood within his old man's embrace. How long had he wondered where the man was? How long had he thought the man dead? That he'd never see him again? And like a broken dam, the tears came. He lifted his hands, gripped the sides of his father's scrub shirt, and buried his face into the man's shoulder as he wept in relieved joy. He wasn't the only one. Isshin's shoulders shook as he pulled Ichigo closer, held him tighter and tighter.

"My son," the elder Kurosaki croaked hoarsely. "I thought you were dead."

Ichigo snorted as he guardedly wiped his eyes. "I thought _you_ were dead."

Silence. The question hung in the air like impenetrable cobwebs. He wanted to ask, but he wasn't sure if his old man knew the answer. More than that though, Ichigo wasn't sure he wanted to _hear_ the answer. What if it was right along with what he'd been thinking in the prison? He didn't think he could bear it. Losing all the women in his life would more than likely ruin him.

Fuck, but he had to know.

"Dad, where're the girls?" he asked tacitly, feeling a distinct sense of deja vu.

Isshin stiffened and it made Ichigo do the same in return. That didn't bode well. He pulled out of his father's arms and studied the older man's face. Isshin looked his age for a change. He looked weary and beaten down, like he held the weight of a few planets on his shoulders. Dark circles were under his equally dark eyes, the grooves at the corners of them were more pronounced, and there were even lines around his mouth. Then, Ichigo reeled, just noticing something else. His father's hair was cut shorter than normal and his facial hair was completely gone. Jesus Christ, the man hardly looked the same. It made Ichigo wonder how he'd even been able to recognize him.

Isshin swallowed a couple times before speaking. "They've been taken to the human colony."

"The _what?_" Ichigo snapped with an immediate frown.

His old man gave a long-suffering sigh and ran a large hand through his closely-cropped hair. "That night, three months ago, we were all split up. I was brought here because of my standing as a doctor, the girls were taken to the neighborhood near the river, and you..." his voice trailed off as he stared at Ichigo, mouth flattening into a thin line before he resumed. "I heard the truth about the prison after I was brought here. The stories the Ghouls told-"

"So, it's true?" Ichigo interrupted incredulously. "This shit about Ghouls and-and..." this time his voice died out, unable to finish the sentence. He really didn't want to voice what he was thinking.

Isshin apparently didn't have that problem. "It's hard to believe, I know, but there are no other explanations. Besides, I've seen irrevocable proof of their existence. I keep my head down and it's amazing the things the Ghouls let slip around me. How they became what they are by receiving the blood of a pure-blooded vampire. How they enjoy watching the 'stinking humans' being harvested at the prison." Isshin stopped and shook his head, eyes angry and full of sorrow. "They're animals, my son."

Ichigo rubbed his temples roughly and closed his eyes. There it was: loud and in the open. Vampires. He heaved a deep breath and swallowed the lump rising in his throat. He had so many questions.

"How did you know where the girls were taken?" he asked.

Isshin sighed. "At the house, one of the Ghouls boasted about it. He claimed the 'she-humans' were to be taken to the new colony because they were so young, and the 'man-humans' were to be taken to the prison. They changed their mind about me when they found out I was a doctor from our neighbor. You know how Izumi-san always called me Dr. Kurosaki."

"Oh. So, they're OK? The girls?"

"I'm not sure," his old man answered, voice wavering a bit. "I can only hope so."

Anger surged through Ichigo with the force of a volcanic eruption. "Where the fuck did these things come from?" he snarled, hands forming tight fists at his sides. "Why didn't anyone see this shit coming?"

Isshin shook his head and rubbed his eyes. "I'm at a loss on that one, my son. But...I have to go. I've stayed long enough and I don't want anyone to come looking for me," he said as he tugged on the teal shower cap and replaced the surgeon's mask he'd tucked into the pockets of his scrub shirt.

"Dad, wait! I still have a lot of questions!"

"Tomorrow, Ichigo."

It was muffled and succinct, but still reassuring. At least he could _look forward_ to tomorrow at this point, knowing his father was alive and his sisters had a good chance of being so as well. The situation was still bleak, but optimism planted roots inside him as he hugged his father again. It appeared as though his old man knew a lot more about the creatures holding them all hostage and Ichigo planned to glean as much of it as he could.

**These chapters are so difficult for me because I want to get to Grimmjow just as badly as you guys want me to, LoL. However, I need to set the stage before I get to the main event. If you noticed the dates in the first chapter, we're still ten years in the past. I say give it another chapter or so and I'll be ready to introduce my favorite blue-haired ruffian. I've got wonderful plans for him, don't I, Kill? ;) **

**So, anyway. I need a little more of your patience. Thanks for reading~**

**Next time...**

**Follow me on deviantART: Racey-Sama. Just in case all my stuff gets deleted here, you can find me there.**


	4. Chapter 4: Comes In Threes

**CHAPTER 4: COMES IN THREES**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach...

**Events and sequences will be sporadic and sometimes abrupt, and this chapter is very long and dark, so get ready...get ready...get ready...cuz here...we...go...**

Onwards...

XOXOXO

He woke to the smell of food. It was like the aroma lifted him straight out of slumber and clear off the bed. He was sitting up on the side of the soft mattress before he even opened his eyes. When he did manage to drag his heavy lids apart, sleepy brown eyes landed on the table on which he'd eaten his meal before falling asleep. This time around, however, there was only one large platter and a pitcher of something orange. He hoped like hell it was orange juice and not the watered down version, either. And then his thoughts caught up to his slowly waking mind.

His old man was alive and working at the blood bank as a Sanitizer. Ichigo smiled genuinely for the first time in what felt like forever. No wonder he'd slept so well; his mind was somewhat at peace. His father was fine and his sisters seemed to be OK too from what Isshin had told him. He climbed to his feet and stretched luxuriously, a loud yawn punctuating the thick silence of his room. And then he realized the towel he'd slept in was no longer wrapped around his waist, but still amongst his covers. He shook his head as he rooted around for it, wondering why he'd never been given any clothes to sleep in. Hell, he didn't even have underwear and it was really getting on his nerves going commando for so long. First, three months at the prison and now here, indefinitely. _Didn't he at least deserve a pair of boxers?_ he inwardly groused.

Once the towel was secured around his waist, he moved over to the table and lifted the lid from the gleaming silver platter. His stomach instantly growled and his mouth watered. He recognized the dish as porridge, but he also smelled cinnamon and vanilla. _Sweet_, his gut crooned as he lowered himself into the seat at the table. It took him approximately ten minutes to clear the surface of anything resembling food. Even though he'd eaten before going to bed, his body had still been aching for more. Now that he was fed, he left the table and shuffled into the bathroom to relieve his bladder and brush his teeth. A liberal coating of his armpits with the fresh smelling deodorant on the sink came next, and after that, he dressed in the same type of clothes from...last night? He wasn't sure. Time seemed to be a nonfactor in this place, but it was a helluva sight better than the prison, that was for damned sure.

As soon as he tucked his feet into a fresh pair of slippers, a knock sounded at his door. He strolled over to it, adjusting the collar of his snug dress shirt before sliding the portal open.

"Dad," he greeted with a wide smile.

"Ichigo, my son," Isshin returned, dark eyes crinkling with warmth. "Did you sleep well?"

"Definitely."

"Good. Are you ready?"

Ichigo nodded, but tilted his head to the side in consideration. "Hey, Dad? I wanted to ask about a couple more things, but you left kinda quick."

"I'm not allowed to socialize with other humans. I'm only required to escort you to and from your destinations. Actually, I was lucky to have been able to talk with you last night."

"Yeah, speaking of which: what time is it? I feel like I'm lost in space or something," he asked, rubbing the back of his head.

Isshin's eyes twinkled and those creases appeared again. "It's ten o'clock PM. You have an evening shift, my son."

"OK. So, wait. If-if we're really dealing with...with vampires, why doesn't everyone work at night?"

"That wouldn't be practical for their business, which is why they have the Ghouls. Since they're not vampires, they can roam the daytime without incident."

Ichigo huffed in annoyance for the unfortunate guards. "That explains the lack of fangs and hostile personalities. Is that why some of them aren't too fond of their, uh, their masters?"

His old man nodded and motioned for Ichigo to follow him out of the room. "It does. Some don't appreciate the way they're being used, while others embrace it. Those are the ones you _really_ need to look out for. They're mean and nasty and have been known to kill the occasional human."

"That sucks," Ichigo mumbled as he went back to his dining table and grabbed his ID card.

The door slid shut behind him before Isshin decided to speak again. "Mm," he agreed. "Those sorts of Ghouls are usually employed at the colonies, however."

Dread descended in the teen's gut like a storm cloud over a city. That was pretty bad news considering that was where his little sisters were currently located. "Dad-" he started, but his old man cut him off as they entered the stairwell that led to the lower level and the showers.

"I know, Ichigo. All I can do is pray for their well-being. I suggest you do the same."

He hated hearing his father sound so fucking serious all the time. It just wasn't in the man's nature. Goofball was written all over the guy's DNA, so this somber attitude had to be strenuous to keep up. Ichigo wished – not for the first or last time – that things could just go back to normal. He'd give up his precious nuts to be able to attend high school again, see his friends, sleep in his old room, eat another meal Yuzu cooked. He sighed dejectedly as they trooped down the stairs, making Isshin glance over his shoulder at him. There was a heavy resignation in the old man's voice as he faced forward again.

"There's nothing we can do at this point, my son. And that isn't the speech of a coward; it's the realization of a man trying to survive. I hope we can see your sisters again one day."

"I know, Dad. It just sucks all to hell."

They reached the lower level in silence, Ichigo's shoulders seeming to bear the weight of the world. They slowly made their way past the showers, where those from the ending shift were lined up or washing in the stalls, waiting to be escorted to their rooms. It was all so robotic, so science fiction, it almost made him laugh. He felt like he'd fallen into the pages of one of Renji's favorite books. The red head had an intense love affair with all things sci-fi and supernatural; one would think this was right up the guy's alley. Thinking of his friend made him wince. He never thought he'd actually miss the boisterous teen, but here he was wishing he could sit next to him and laugh at his jokes again. He hadn't seen Renji at the prison, but that didn't mean anything. Was the boy dead? What about Keigo? And Chado? _God_, he thought with a harsh swallow. _I really hope they're OK_. They finally made it to the computer room, where Ichigo's old man showed him to his station and tapped a few buttons that brought the darkened screen to life.

"Have faith, my son," Isshin whispered before shoving off towards the back of the room.

Ichigo nodded and hunkered down at his station. Things were a little better, but still not all the way comfortable. It'd be two years before that happened.

_**September 2004**_

_**Blood Bank 214**_

_**Karakura, Japan**_

Routine became his best friend. Night after night, he went and worked in the computer lab, entering information into the blood bank's data base. He didn't resist, he didn't even try to make friends. He just existed.

And it sucked.

Ichigo woke to the pressing silence of his room and yawned, not ready to climb out of bed just yet. He'd been enjoying a nice little dream where he'd been hip-deep between the creamy thighs of a pretty brunette with big brown eyes. Where her image had been conjured from, he had no idea, but he'd been having the time of his life. So much so that when he sat up in bed and tossed the covers away, he came face to face with an impressive erection. He sighed. It'd been a long time since he'd had any sexual inclinations and even longer since he'd had the desire to fulfill them. Not that he had the time, though. Breakfast was on the table and he had about fifteen minutes until his father came and took him to the computer lab.

Yep, routine had become his best friend alright, but it didn't mean the bitch wasn't boring as fuck.

After he ate breakfast and dressed, he waited for the usual knock at the door. It came, but it was about ten minutes late. With a frown, he crossed the room. Before he could slide the door aside, it opened on its own, revealing a face he hadn't seen in two years, according to his father's time. Gold and black eyes shimmered as pearly white teeth nearly blinded him.

"Long time no see, Ichigo. How ya doin'?"

Ichigo gaped at the pale guard, caught absolutely off track. He was truly at a loss for words. He'd started thinking he'd never see the creepy guy ever again – or at least he'd hoped so. Shiro gave him nasty chills.

"Uh, I'm, uh...good?" It came out as a question and made him feel completely stupid once it was floating in the space between them.

"Ya look good," Shiro said, voice lowering and grin turning predatory.

Ichigo took a couple steps back and wiped his suddenly clammy hands on his thighs. "Yeah...thanks. So, um...what brings you here?"

He had to know. He hoped he wasn't going back to the prison. He'd die before he let them make a snack out of him.

"Well, we've been given notice ta take all a'the humans ta the colony near the river. Gonna get crowded, but at least you'll be 'round yer own kind, ne?" the guard reassured him.

But Ichigo was a bit confused. It didn't make sense. Why now? Why so suddenly? Was it another episode like the prison? If so, he wanted no parts of it. Hell, even now he was quelling the anxiety that'd begun shimmying up his throat. It'd definitely registered in his mind the fact that Shiro had mentioned the colony where Ichigo's sisters were supposed to be. Just the thought of seeing them again had had him giddy...for about five seconds. Then he got paranoid as hell. Life at the blood bank was boring, but peaceful. He didn't have to constantly worry about being snatched out of bed before being led to his doom. He didn't have to wrestle with the fear of being drained of the very essence that made him tick. However, he'd never forget the prison. He'd never forget that horrendous experience for the rest of his life – regardless how long that may be. He didn't know, but he sure as hell wasn't in a hurry to speed things along.

He gave Shiro a very wary glance and frowned. "Gotta do better than that," he grunted, his comfort with the easy-going atmosphere of the blood bank making his tongue looser than it should've been.

Thankfully, the albino guard just chuckled. "God, I missed this. Ya know how bored I was at the prison all this time, Ichigo? Nobody ta talk shit ta me. It sucked nads." Ichigo just stared, hoping Shiro wouldn't go all horny Superman on him and just give him a clearer explanation. He got lucky. Shiro did take a step forward, but he stopped and continued talking before he got too close. "So, here's the thing, Fire-locks. My boss wants us ta clear the blood banks of humans. Don' know why, an' I ain't 'bout ta ask questions, either. I do mah job, which is cartin' ya over ta the human colony by the river. Ya don' wanna go, ya go back ta the prison. Not many humans there these days, though."

Well, that was certainly a mouthful, but it did its job of making things a lot more understandable. It was obvious Shiro didn't have the slightest clue why they were being transferred to the human colony, but if it meant Ichigo wasn't going to die, he was a cheerleader all the way. He hoped he could find his sisters.

"OK," he said quietly. He still didn't trust Shiro as far as he could throw him, but what choice did he really have? Go to the colony or back to the prison? He gave an internal chuckle. Hell, that was easy. "I'll go."

"This sure is deja vu, dontcha think, Ichigo?" Shiro said excitedly, watery voice creeping over Ichigo's skin.

"Yeah, I guess."

The guard closed the gap between them and held up a set of handcuffs. Yeah, it was without question deja vu. Once he was snapped into the cuffs, Shiro gently guided him to the door and down the deserted hall. This struck Ichigo as odd and sent up flags all over the place.

"Where's everyone else?" he asked as he glanced at all the shut doors around them.

Shiro grinned. "Ther' comin'. I asked ta be yer special escort though 'cuz I like ya. My master's pretty cool, so he gave me some leeway. Ain't that nice? Now we c'n spend some quality time tagether."

Ichigo shook his head, amazed at how unhinged the guard was. Shiro didn't seem to realize just how much he scared the shit out of him. Ichigo decided not to answer the question in the guy's speech, figuring it was rhetorical anyway. They trooped down the hall and into the stairwell, where Shiro helped him keep his balance down the steps. It felt like his first day at the blood bank all over again, only this time in reverse and minus the ugly blue prison uniform. He preferred it this way, however.

They were at the counter near the entrance of the library, when Ichigo noticed another drastic difference. It no longer resembled the storage facility it was upon his arrival. Behind the counter were four guards and four computer monitors, and there were pale beings lined up before them. It was frightening and unsettling. Made his fucking skin crawl. He was looking at the vampiric version of a grocery store. He looked over at Shiro, who was wearing an amused grin as he looked right back at Ichigo.

"So, um...things have changed, I guess," Ichigo ventured.

Shiro cackled and edged him towards the doors. "Ya c'n say that."

Things went quiet as he was led outside the old library and into the back of a black sedan. At least that was familiar. Once he was settled inside, he let his eyes wander over the back of the driver's head. It didn't look like the same guy as before. Nnoitra, wasn't it? The driver wore a navy-blue cable-knit hat and wore dark shades. His skin was just as pale as all the other guards, but he didn't allow any distinguishing features to be seen. He didn't seem to be in the mood to socialize like Nnoitra had, either. Ichigo didn't mind. He had a lot of thinking to do. For instance: would he see his father again? He hadn't even had a chance to say goodbye to the old man. It rankled, but at least he could be assured that the man was still alive. That was infinitely better than wondering otherwise.

In any event, he had to ask himself about his sisters. Were they in fact at the colony? Were they OK? If so, would he see them? It was enough to give him heartburn.

As they wound through his old town, he saw changes he'd never expected. Store lights were back on, cars lined the curbs and there were even people moving along the streets. It was amazing. Hell, it looked somewhat normal. He turned to Shiro with a confused frown.

"What's all this?" he asked.

The guard smiled and it actually came across as affectionate. "This is part a'the colony. Sorta like how it was before the takeover, ya know?"

Ichigo was genuinely shocked. "Wow," was all he could muster as he went back to staring through the window.

He watched as they rounded a corner and headed for the neighborhood near the river. It was quieter in this part, not as many stores, but plenty of houses and apartments. There were more people here too. He didn't even realize he was grinning until he caught a glimpse of it in the window. But he was happy. He was eager and looking forward to what was to come. As long as what he was seeing was an indicator of the future, he was more than game. He could live like this.

"So, how's this gonna work?" he questioned, still curious. "Do we get lined up and filed into houses this time?"

Shiro cackled. "No way, Fire-locks. Ya already got somewhere yer goin'."

"Which is?"

And then Shiro went serious, peculiar voice going low as he leaned towards Ichigo's ear. "I did a little diggin' after ya went ta the blood bank. I couldn't help myself, ya know? I wanted ta know more aboutcha. So, I asked around an' figured out who did the gatherin' in yer neighborhood durin' the takeover. When I talked ta him, he told me there were four a'ya in that house: you, two little human girls, an' a older man. I think _you_ know where the man is, an' _I_ know where the little girls are."

Ichigo gasped. It was a true-blue, feminine intake of air. He felt tears prickling at the backs of his eyes as he swallowed and carefully asked, "A-are they OK?"

"Ther good. I made sure a'that. Matter fact, that's where yer headed. I asked my master ta pull some strings fer me since he owes me a couple favors, so yer livin' in a house with them. Ther yer sisters, right?"

He had to be dreaming.

This was shocking in a paralyzing way. He felt like he was glued to the seat of the car, heart racing madly and tongue thick in his mouth. He was dangerously close to bawling like a constipated infant, but he somehow managed to keep it together. Even though Shiro was showing a side of himself that totally went against the grain of his terrifying personality, Ichigo still refused to display any weakness or vulnerability. Yet, his inner self wanted to grab the albino guard and hug him, he was so happy.

"Why would you do that?" he asked instead.

Shiro put one arm around Ichigo's shoulders, making the orange-haired teen stiffen in place, all his happiness suspending in midair. Then, the guard proceeded to turn Ichigo's face with his free hand and softly kiss his lips. Ichigo was too shocked to do much more than squeak indignantly, face flushing and burning at the invasion upon his manhood as he stared in disbelief at the pale man.

"I like ya, Ichigo." The watery tenor was low and heated. "I know I can't have ya 'cuz we ain't allowed ta have a human of our own, but I _like_ ya. I wish I could make ya mine. I'd treat ya good, that's fer sure."

What _the fuck_ was he supposed to say to that shit? Should he explain to Shiro that he wasn't into guys like that? That he preferred breasts and softness to...well...dicks and hardness? He wasn't sure he should. Shiro was strong as an ox on steroids and Ichigo wasn't keen on drawing the guard's anger. In hindsight, he was pretty glad his hands were cuffed together because he probably would've hit Shiro after being kissed like that. Sort of a knee-jerk reaction. And then his subconscious made him shiver and growl at it when the slippery thought of how nice Shiro's kiss felt passed through it. That was just madness. He didn't party on that side of the fence at all, so thoughts of that nature were severely unwelcome.

But his survival instinct kicked in and made him keep his mouth shut, no matter how much he wanted to scream at the albino guard to back the fuck off. Not to mention, he wanted to scratch his brains out after his subconscious supplied him with the sensation of Shiro's kiss again. He was starved for affection, that was all. He hadn't had intimate contact with a female for a couple years and it was clearly taking its toll on him. He was sexually frustrated and his body was responding to Shiro's gentle action, even if it was unwanted. He sighed and turned away from the guard's intense black and gold eyes. Better not to encourage him, though. Ichigo didn't want Shiro thinking it was OK to kiss him and touch him.

They pulled up in front of a white, medium-sized, two-storied home that looked similar to the one he'd grown up in. The engine idled as Shiro gave a deep sigh of his own and climbed from the vehicle after pulling his arm from around Ichigo's shoulders. Ichigo watched warily as the man rounded the car, opened his door and helped him out onto the pavement. The cuffs were undone and Shiro nudged him towards the walkway of the house, a small frown creasing his brows.

"Here ya go, Fire-locks. Jus' ring the bell an' they'll open the door. Take care."

It'd been said so quickly and with so much disappointment, it threw Ichigo. He stared at Shiro, wondering what he should say, what he should do. The guy _had_ helped him in a way that was totally uncalled for from a Ghoul who was obviously on good terms with his master, but all Ichigo could come up with was gratitude.

"Uh, Shiro," he started. The guard focused on Ichigo's face, still frowning, but he didn't say anything. "Thank you. I mean, really. _Thank you_. You didn't have to do all this for me."

Shiro blinded him with his trademark grin and nodded. "No problem, Ichigo. Jus'...jus' think about me sometimes, OK?"

Deciding that agreement was his best option at this point, Ichigo nodded in return before heading up to the house where his sisters were supposedly waiting for him. Once he made it to the top of the stairs, he turned back and watched Shiro climb into the front seat of the car. The guard gave a short wave before the vehicle motored away from the curb. Even though his insides still quivered from being kissed by another guy – who wasn't even human, at that – he faced forward and gingerly rang the bell. He could hear the chime from within and waited with bated breath. Was Shiro telling the truth about everything, or was it all a lie to get him to behave? Maybe the guard thought his story would help get him laid. It was very possible.

There was a small shuffling at the door before it was cracked open a few centimeters and brown eyes peered out at him. A sharp gasp reached his ears as the door was swung wide.

"Onii-chan!" Yuzu cried, tears automatically filling her eyes, then pouring down the sides of her face. "Karin!" she shouted into the house. "Onii-chan is here! Oh my God!"

Ichigo had an acute case of shortness of breath as he bent and hugged his little sister. Thundering footsteps sounded from behind Yuzu before revealing his dark-haired younger sister, onyx eyes wide and disbelieving. Ichigo grinned over Yuzu's thin shoulder at Karin. He'd never seen the surly youngster move that fast outside of a soccer field, and it amused the hell out of him. He held out one of his arms, inviting her into the embrace as well, and she immediately surged forward. Normally, she was more reserved, but they'd all gone through their own trials and he was sure they'd had their fill of worrying and grieving.

"Ichi-nii, you're so stupid!" Karin grunted angrily, even though her voice was tearful. "And where's Goat-Chin? He's late too!"

That made Ichigo wonder. Was Isshin coming to the colony too? If so, would he get to stay with them as well? Ichigo didn't know if Shiro had been able to work that out in his favor too, but he sincerely hoped so. At least he'd be able to rest knowing the old man was alive, and even more-so knowing his sisters were healthy and safe. And that he was there to keep it that way. Optimism flooded his body as they entered the house and he was treated to one of Yuzu's classic dinners. After a lavish shower, he crashed on the couch with a blanket and pillow from Karin, where he slept the slumber of the dead.

**XxxxxxX**

_**March 2005**_

_**Human Colony**_

_**Karakura, Japan**_

Ichigo found himself settling into yet another routine, but this one a lot more desirable than the last two. Gone were thoughts of the prison – although he occasionally had nightmares of the place, they weren't as bad as when he was still a tenant there. Gone were the drab uniforms, gone were the guards around every corner and gone was the stifling feeling of being a slave. He felt like he had a chance to live a normal life. Of course, he'd had to make some sacrifices in forms of finding a job – which had come as a pleasant surprise as being allowed – and taking care of his sisters, but that was fine with him. He even had somewhat of a social life. He'd been reacquainted with a few of his friends: Inoue, Chado, and Keigo. He hadn't seen Renji so far, and refused to entertain the implication of what that meant.

He'd secured a job at the local grocery store, doing overnight stock. The schedule was perfect for him since he was able to look after his sisters during the day and work at night. It got frustrating sometimes when all his body wanted to do was rest, but he preferred this. He enjoyed this. It made him feel human again, even if the vampires refused to let them go to school. They as humans were only allowed to have jobs in order to support themselves with food and clothes. Nothing more. Education was strictly forbidden. So was traveling. They were stuck in Karakura, but that was OK too. He had his sisters and he had a suitable amount of freedom.

He should've been saddened by the fact that he was accepting of being a slave, of being a prisoner, but he wasn't. His experience with the prison had changed him. Now he was just grateful to be alive and with his family and friends. He hoped it would stay that way.

Of course, that thing called optimism had its ups and downs.

He'd just gotten home from work and had been in the process of fixing breakfast for the girls, when the ringing doorbell had made him drop the skillet he'd been washing. After shuffling out of the modest kitchen, he answered the summons and paused in the doorway, surprised.

"Keigo?"

The brunet's eyes were wild as he shoved himself inside the house and slammed the door behind him. As he leaned against it, breath coming in gasps and pants, Ichigo gaped. He wasn't sure where to start, what he should say, nothing. So, he remained silent, sure his energetic friend would tell him why he looked like he'd just been chased by a group of vampires. Sure enough...

"I-Ichigo! You have to help me!"

"What?" he snapped. His heart instantly began pounding at the fear written all over his best friend's face. "Keigo! Make sense for once! Help you what?"

He couldn't help it. When he got scared, he got mad.

"They're trying to make me some vampire's bitch!" Keigo shrieked, brown eyes filling with desperate tears as he gripped the hair at his temples.

OK, he was ready to punch the shit out of Keigo. Instead, he grabbed the shorter boy's shoulders and shook him hard enough to jerk his head back and forth. Keigo's eyes still glistened, but managed to focus on Ichigo's face. Once Ichigo thought the teen was sufficiently calm enough to speak without foaming at the mouth, he let his shoulders go.

"Now...tell me what's goin' on. Slowly."

Keigo took a deep, shuddering breath as his eyes went to the floor. "Those pasty bastards came to my house and had the nerve to tell me I'd been chosen to be a donor."

"What's that mean?" Ichigo asked carefully.

He'd never heard that before and was wondering if it was anything like the prison and the harvesting room. But that didn't make sense because Keigo'd mentioned something about being a vampire's bitch. You couldn't be anyone's bitch if you were convulsing on an operating table. So, rather than voice his opinion on the matter, he waited for more information. Didn't want to jump the gun.

Keigo gave him a look that made him think he had a tree growing from the top of his head. "You can't be serious, Ichigo."

"Keigo," he growled, hands turning into fists of their own accord.

The brunet rolled his eyes, even though he was still saturated with fear. "A donor is a human that's given to a highly ranked vampire to feed from. You know how they're supposed to take their meals from the blood banks? Well, the top dogs in the vamp world – usually the pure-bloods, and there's only a handful of those left, I've heard – they get their own special human to feed from. They can't kill the human, but other than that, anything goes. Unfortunately, this human essentially becomes that vampire's slave. You can't do shit unless they say it's OK, and you have to tolerate them biting and sucking on you whenever they get hungry. I don't think I want that, Ichigo," Keigo explained.

Ichigo had never heard of this whole donor process before. But then again, he worked every night and usually took care of errands and slept during the day. He really didn't have time to socialize, which was why he'd been so shocked to see Keigo on his doorstep. Not that he minded. Sometimes they hung out on the weekends, but weekdays, he was busy. And since he was busy, he didn't have time to catch the latest gossip, or in this case the latest news. He shifted his weight and stared at his best friend, unsure of what he should say to the boy. One thing came to mind, though.

"Aren't we already their bitches, then?" he asked bitterly.

He was more than aware that they couldn't come and go as they pleased. They were restricted to Karakura. Not only that, but they were forbidden from leaving their assigned neighborhoods. They couldn't go to school, they couldn't have cell phones or internet, and it was risking your life to be out after sundown, unless you were working. In his opinion, they were bent over and grabbing their ankles for the vampires. He _did_ have to admit the donor business sounded degrading as hell, though. He wouldn't be too fond of that kind of news, either, so he really didn't blame Keigo for flipping out.

"That might be true, but this is _worse!_ It's like you become their personal midnight snack! I'm already skinny, Ichigo! Do you really think I'd survive that?"

Ichigo outright laughed at the look on the teen's face. "Keigo, you retard," he chortled.

He turned and made his way back into the kitchen, mind intent on finishing breakfast for his sisters. They were still asleep in their rooms and usually didn't rise until nine or ten. He glanced at the clock over the stove and nodded. It was eight-thirty; he still had time. Keigo followed him into the kitchen and plopped into one of the wooden chairs around the dining table. The shorter boy stretched his legs in front of him and rested his head on his arms, a deep sigh emanating from the space within. Ichigo glanced at him as he cracked eggs into a bowl and scrambled them quickly with fork. Even though Keigo had been joking, he'd known the brunet long enough to recognize the lines of stress in his back. He'd learned to pinpoint just when Keigo was trying to hide his emotions. Right now, the guy was scared out of his mind and trying to keep it all inside.

And then all hell broke loose for the umpteenth time.

The front door burst open, banging against the wall as men filled the sitting room. Ichigo dropped the bowl in his hands, egg splattering across the floor, and Keigo leaped to his feet, body whirling in place to face the men suddenly rushing towards him. Brown eyes turned to Ichigo, positively panicked as Keigo tried to leap the kitchen table, out of reach of the men, who weren't really men now that Ichigo had a chance to get a good look at them. They were guards and they were pissed. There were five of them and they all had hand guns holstered in their uniform belts. One of them caught Keigo by the collar before he could make it across the table, yanking him back down, then slammed his face onto the unforgiving wooden surface.

Ichigo shook free from his shock at the disgusting display of violence towards his best friend, hand going for the knife on the counter. He rounded the table, not quite sure what he planned to do against five guards with guns and inhuman strength, but he couldn't just stand aside and watch them hurt his friend.

The guard that'd smashed Keigo's face to the table, picked the brunet's head up and Ichigo thought he would lose his fucking mind. Keigo's face was bloody, crimson trails leaking from his nose and mouth, not to mention a gash above his left eyebrow. Brown eyes were glazed with pain as Keigo's hands were yanked behind his back, thoroughly immobilized. It made Ichigo's blood boil, made his gut burn with absolute rage. He caught one of the guard's across the face with the knife after feinting towards Keigo. The guard – a burly Ghoul with bright red hair on the right side of his head and closely cropped, dark hair on the left – howled angrily, huge hand over his right eye. Ichigo brought his arm up to slice again, but the guard gained his bearings a lot faster than Ichigo'd expected, and backhanded him across the jaw, knocking him into the table. Ichigo's hip banged against the sturdy wood, but he maintained his grip on the sharp weapon in his hand. He turned his back on the guard and hunched over the table, clutching the knife close to his chest and waiting for his chance. Then, his luck ran out. Another guard stopped across the table from him and smiled down at him, gun in hand and aimed directly at his forehead.

Shit. _Shit_.

His head was jerked backwards, a merciless grasp tugging at his hair and making him cry out in pain. He felt sharpness at his throat and closed his eyes, positive he was about to die. But a gun went off, splintering the air. The deafening crack was followed by an even more pronounced silence. There was no more scuffling, no more grunts and yells. Just thick, oppressive quiet. Ichigo slowly cracked an eye open and took in his surroundings, heart sitting on his tongue. And then the reckless grip on his hair abruptly disappeared, making him whirl in time to see the burly guard fall to the floor, eyes glazed, mouth still opened in a snarl, and a bloody bullet hole decorating the center of his forehead.

"Ichigo, ya OK?"

He shivered, then froze, too afraid to move. Too afraid to speculate. Too afraid period.

He knew that voice. Hell, he'd never forget it.

"Ichigo?" the voice tried again.

Finally, he looked up, eyes meeting those of his savior's. Shiro stood in the doorway of the kitchen, hand just lowering, but smoking gun still clasped in it. Ichigo couldn't breathe. He was sure he was turning blue from holding his breath for so long. He'd been certain he'd been about to die. His body shook violently as he glanced over at Keigo's captors, who were now holding the struggling brunet in a rough parody of a fire man's carry. Ichigo wanted to protest, but figured it would be futile at this point. The guards were too fucking strong. Plus, he was pretty curious as to why Shiro had protected him from his own comrade. And when had the albino guard shown up in the first place? Ichigo would've recognized him when the guards had spilled into his house.

"What're you doin' here, Shiro?" he asked quietly, voice tremulous.

Shiro tucked his gun into its holster before stepping forward, gold and black eyes wide with concern. "I came ta make sure these idiots didn't do nothin' stupid," he snapped before spitting on the burly guard's corpse.

Shiro stalked over to him and gripped his chin before Ichigo's brain could register that he should be somewhat afraid. Strong fingers turned his face left to right, studying the bruise he was positive bloomed across his jaw.

"That asshole," the guard growled darkly and it made the hair all over Ichigo's body stand straight up.

"I'm fine. What the fuck is goin' on?"

Shiro sighed and let his chin go. Then he faced the guard holding Keigo over his broad shoulder. "Let him down," he ordered.

The guard hesitated, dark eyes wide as he glanced at his other three comrades, who frozen with uncertainty. "U-uh, Shirosaki, I don'-"

"I didn't ask ya all that, now did I? Put the fuckin' human down!"

The guard complied, but his eyes narrowed with anger. "Ya know yer gonna be killed fer this right?"

"Fuck off," Shiro grumbled as he gripped Keigo's left shoulder. "You OK, human?"

Keigo jerked away from him, body immediately finding its way over to Ichigo. The brunet was trembling uncontrollably as he shamelessly hid his face in Ichigo's shoulder, hands clinging to his clothes. Ichigo allowed his friend a moment of vulnerability, hugging him gently and murmuring comforting words to calm him down. His eyes inevitably went back to Shiro, who watched them with longing in his strange eyes.

"Ichigo," he said. "They have ta take him. I can't stop that."

Keigo stiffened in his arms and shook his head vehemently, but if Shiro was telling them there was nothing he could do after defending them from an overzealous guard, then it meant there really was nothing that could be done. Keigo would have to accompany them and become a donor as much as he hated to. If he wanted to continue to hold onto his life, then the brunet had no other options.

"Keigo, just go. They'll kill you if you don't," Ichigo said softly.

A loud sniff preceded Keigo's head lifting, brown eyes red and watery, and face still bloody. "I'd rather die, Ichigo."

"Don't say that shit! Not in front of me. You're my friend, Keigo."

Keigo sighed and lowered his head. It shook a couple times before the shorter teen turned to Shiro with sad eyes. He didn't speak – frankly, it was unnecessary – and Shiro nodded as he came forward. Black and gold settled on Ichigo yet again, but Ichigo turned away from them. He really didn't like what he saw in their strange depths. Even more-so, he refused to put a name to it. Shiro extracted a pair of cuffs from his belt, but before he could bring them forward, Keigo jerked drastically.

"Don't!" he almost shrieked. "Please don't put those on me!"

Ichigo cringed, tears prickling the backs of his eyes. Why did things have to be this way? Why did he have to watch his friend being taken to another, more drastic form of slavery? Why did he have to watch that friend break down in front of a bunch of cruel Ghoul guards? It was fucked up and it pissed him off. It made him feel helpless and he hated it. He gently grasped Keigo's shoulder to calm the teen down and somehow it worked. Keigo's voice lowered and his breathing gradually slowed.

"Don't put those on me. I'll come quietly," he tried again, tone more civil this time.

Shiro glanced at Ichigo and nodded, and Ichigo couldn't shake the feeling of "this is for you" it left behind. "OK."

With the cuffs out of sight, Keigo turned to Ichigo and hugged him tightly, shameless. The brunet had always been shameless when it came to Ichigo, but now, he was grateful for it. He hugged the boy in return, still fighting frustrated tears.

"You'll be OK," he said into Keigo's ear as he rubbed his back.

"Yeah," Keigo replied, but his voice clearly implied otherwise.

When the brunet pulled out of the hug, he kept his hands on Ichigo's shoulders, eyes sad, though determined. And then the other boy leaned forward and kissed him. Ichigo found himself paralyzed with shock, having been kissed by _yet another_ male. What the fuck was going on? Keigo'd kissed him in school before, but Ichigo'd never taken the incident seriously. He'd always thought the teen was just trying to embarrass and get a rise out of him. Now, however...the look in the brunet's eyes told him just how serious he was.

Keigo gave a sad grin. "You've always been a good friend to me, Ichigo, and I never wanted to ruin that. Plus, I knew you were straight. But..." he paused and lowered his eyes to the floor with a deep sigh. "I don't wanna leave without letting you know how I really feel."

"Keigo," Ichigo whispered, throat suddenly raw and voice hoarse. He was completely clueless as to how to deal with his best friend apparently confessing to him.

"It's OK, Ichigo. I don't regret anything. I loved being your best friend," Keigo laughed light-heartedly. "But...since I'll never see you again, I need you to know that I really do love you. And not just as your best bud."

Ichigo closed his eyes and lowered his head, heart galloping painfully. His breath shuddered past his lips in anxious pants. He was confused. He was floored, completely overwhelmed. He never would have seen this coming in a million years. Yeah, Keigo pretended to want him, pretended to sexually harass him, but that was just it. He'd been _pretending_. Or at least that's what Ichigo'd been thinking. Now he was faced with the fact that his best friend of a little over five years had been in love with him. And still was. It was so surprising, it was almost traumatic. What was he supposed to say? Hell, what was he supposed to _do?_ He didn't realize he'd asked that last one out loud until Keigo chuckled quietly.

"I do have a personal request."

Ichigo frowned. "What?" he grunted.

Keigo's brown eyes went glassy again, causing Ichigo's teeth to clench and his jaws to ache. "I know this isn't very fair of me, but...Ichigo – and I'll totally understand if you say no and kick my ass – but...can you, uh...can I, um..."

As he stared at the blood on his best friend's face and the way Keigo's brown eyes shimmered with fear and uncertainty, he inwardly gave a long-suffering sigh. He could kind of piece together what the other boy was asking of him. But he really didn't want to. The thought of kissing another guy willingly was very unappealing, but the thought of breaking his best friend's heart before watching him walk away probably for the last time – that was much more unappealing. In fact, it was damned near intolerable. He kicked away his struggling and protesting conscience, arguing that a kiss was nothing compared to sending Keigo into degrading slavery with a shattered heart. God, he hated being so protective sometimes.

That in mind, he huffed and rolled his eyes even as he lifted a hand to the back of Keigo's neck. "Come here," he murmured.

And that was the day he – Ichigo Kurosaki – realized kissing a guy wasn't as bad as he thought it would be.

It was clumsy and hesitant, not to mention tinged with the coppery taste of Keigo's blood, but it was also warm and inviting. Gently arousing. Ichigo caught himself swallowing a moan a few times as Keigo's slick tongue worked the inside of his mouth, tenderly battling with his. His body didn't find it odd at all, but his mind...well, that was another story entirely. It raged at him, screaming that Keigo was a guy. Again, he ignored it in favor of giving his friend the moment he desired.

Not too long after, he pulled out of the kiss. He had to breathe, after all. Keigo stepped back, panting and eyes glazed. Then, he touched his lips and smiled crookedly.

"Thanks, Ichigo. For everything."

With that, he turned towards Shiro, who simply stood staring, eyes wide as baseballs. Ichigo expected a smart remark, but incredibly, Shiro seemed to understand the situation and merely smiled as he led Keigo out of the kitchen. The other guards formed themselves around Shiro and the short brunet, creating the image of a square with a couple holes in its middle. Ichigo trailed behind them, absently noticing his sisters huddled on the stairs.

"Don't move," he stated before continuing towards the front door.

He would later wish he'd kept his ass inside the house. The minute Keigo's procession made it to the sidewalk in front, Keigo glanced over his shoulder at Ichigo, their eyes locking for a brief, heart-stopping moment, where the brunet mouthed, "I'm sorry." Panicking, Ichigo started out the door of his home, but was stricken immobile at the sight of Keigo snatching the gun from the holster of the guard in front of him. He couldn't move. Hell, he couldn't even fucking scream, although he wanted to _badly_. All he could do was stand rooted to his stoop as Keigo lifted the gun to his mouth and pulled the trigger.

**XxxxxxX**

_**April 2005**_

_**Human Colony**_

_**Karakura, Japan**_

Ichigo struggled with his umbrella as he left the house for work. It was pouring down rain, the streets slick and the air heavy with moisture and humidity. It was unusually warm for a Spring night, but he didn't mind. It was better than freezing.

Finally, he managed to get the damned thing open and over his head. He closed his eyes briefly as he passed the front of the house, pain lancing through his heart. Every time he left the house and passed the front, he thought about Keigo. How his best friend had taken his own life right in front of him. Ichigo rubbed his eyes with his free hand and picked up his pace. He couldn't get those images out of his head. He couldn't stop thinking about how Keigo must've never intended to be a donor. He couldn't stop thinking about their kiss. And then he couldn't keep himself from thinking how it had to be his fault. He was bad luck. It was starting to seem like _anyone_ who came near him or liked him got hurt.

A week after the incident, he'd been on his way to work, passing the old cemetery, when he'd noticed a large gathering. He hadn't really been interested until he'd realized the gathering was a huge group of Ghouls, clustered around a pale-haired figure trapped in a pillory.

_He crept into the cemetery, creeping behind the ash-gray, stone pillars and making sure to keep out of sight. He thought he saw one of the guards look his way and ducked, heart racing. He had to be careful. Thank God it was dark. He was sure what he was doing was ludicrously dangerous, but he couldn't help himself. If that head of hair belonged to whom he thought..._

_The closer he got, the more words he could make out._

"_Shouldn't...fuckin'...human."_

_What? And then Ichigo's stomach dropped. He remembered what that guard had said in his kitchen a week ago. Fuck. He edged closer to the opening where the Ghouls were congregated and paused behind a tall pillar. He was as close as he planned to get._

"_I don' fuckin' care. Kill me."_

_Shirosaki, Ichigo thought. It really was him. He hung his head and clutched his chest. Which meant, Shiro had gotten into trouble for helping Ichigo in his kitchen the day Keigo'd killed himself. This was all his fault._

"_So dramatic, Shirosaki. Ya weren't talkin' like that when ya shot Edrad fer a human, now were ya?" a deep voice growled._

"_No. An' I'd do it again too."_

_Shiro, stop, Ichigo inwardly begged. He didn't want another person to die and definitely not because of him._

"_Yer a disgrace. I don' unnerstan' how yer master tolerates ya."_

_Thankfully, Shiro didn't say anything, but the next sequence of events had Ichigo covering his mouth and trying not to cry out in pain for the albino guard. He'd taken the chance of peering around the pillar he hid behind and had gotten an eyeful of a tall, dark-haired guard hacking off Shiro's feet at the ankles. Shiro still didn't make a sound, but when Ichigo peeked around the pillar again, he noticed the guard's body was trembling uncontrollably. _

_Ichigo gagged into his hand, still careful to keep himself quiet. Wasn't it enough that they were humiliating the guy? They had to cut off his feet too? Silent tears streamed down the sides of his face. He couldn't do this anymore. He couldn't deal. He'd had to watch his best friend kill himself and now he was enduring the terrifying ordeal of his Ghoul savior's punishment and possible death. _

"_Aw, no screams?" the deep voice continued. "How 'bout I cut a little higher? Maybe that'll get ya ta wail."_

_The distant sound of a watery sniff caught Ichigo's attention and made his heart stop. He couldn't even begin to fathom the idea of Shiro crying, let alone the guard actually doing so._

"_Fuck you," Shiro choked through deep breaths. "I toldja ta kill me. Jus' get it over wit'."_

"_Ha! And the rodent begs fer mercy." There was a long pause where Ichigo was sorely tempted to glance around his pillar again, but decided against it. He was too afraid. "I think we'll letcha sit here and die slowly. Letcha think 'bout why yer dyin' in the firs' place."_

_Ichigo could hear Shiro's pants growing harsher as the group of Ghouls mobilized and shuffled away from the clearing. He didn't move for several more minutes, heart climbing his throat as he thought about being caught. And then he thought about Shiro. The strange guard had saved his bacon time and time again, even if he had kissed him and scared the shit out of him a time or two. _

_When he was sure there were no more Ghouls in the immediate area, he rounded the pillar and inched closer to the morbid scene. Shiro still hung from the pillory, his back to Ichigo and his breathing was fast and heavy. Then it paused as he sniffed again. A watery chuckle followed, lifting the hairs on the back of Ichigo's neck._

"_I knew that was you, Ichigo," Shiro croaked._

_Ichigo jerked, but gave up trying to approach the guard with stealth. He walked over, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides until he finally came face-to-face with the ashen being. He studiously ignored the blood on the ground and the severed feet within it as he locked eyes with Shiro's pained black and gold orbs. _

"_Don' look at me like that," Shiro snapped. "This ain't yer fault."_

"_Yes, it is. Th-they did this to you-"_

"_Stop it." Shiro didn't even raise his voice, but the command was clear. "They did this ta me 'cuz ther' jealous a'me. It ain' got nothin' ta do witchu. They can't stand that I'm on good terms wit' my master, so they hadda get rid a'me."_

_Ichigo just stood there feeling like a fool as unwanted tears trailed down his cheeks. He didn't know what to say. This was the second time he would witness a friend's death, and even though Shiro was a Ghoul, it didn't make him any less of a friend. He'd done things for Ichigo that not even a human in his position would've done, and that was enough to put him on Ichigo's good side, never mind the times the guy'd scared the crap out of him. _

"_I hate ya gotta see me like this, ya know," Shiro continued, voice low and strained. "But at least I get ta say goodbye."_

"_I can get help for you," Ichigo argued pitifully._

_The guard laughed. "No, ya can't. They'd kill ya too."_

"_This isn't right."_

"_Naw. What they did ta the humans – that ain't right. This? This here's jus' poetic justice."_

"_Fuck off, Shiro! You don't deserve this, no matter what you've done before! It's not like you had a choice!"_

_The albino guard went silent as he studied Ichigo's face. Then, he smiled."Yer a good kid, Ichigo. Don' let those assholes change ya." He paused and sucked in a breath. "I'ma needja ta go away now."_

"_What? Why?" Ichigo sputtered, confused. "I can hel-"_

"_Get the fuck outta here, Ichigo. Ya don' need ta see this."_

_He didn't budge. He wouldn't just let Shiro die there like that, alone. It was cruel and beneath him, even if watching caused him to feel like a hippo sat on his chest. _

"_Get outta here, dammit," Shiro snarled. "Or I'll make a racket an' bring em back here. Ya want that?"_

_Ichigo shook with fury. He knew Shiro was just putting on a show, his one last good deed for him. It wasn't right. It wasn't. But who was he to step on the guard's wishes after all he'd done? With a heavy heart and wrath burning in his gut, he turned on his heel and trudged away. He swiped angrily at the tears on his face as he stomped past pillar after pillar, square stone plot after square stone plot. Shiro didn't say a word, but the farewell rang deafeningly in Ichigo's ears as he exited the cemetery. At that moment, he hated himself with a deep passion._

He didn't deserve friends if they were only going to keep dying.

Needless to say he'd skipped work that night. He wouldn't have been able to concentrate anyway. He also kept away from his other friends, with the misgiving in mind that he was bad luck. He was his friends' very own Grim Reaper and it sucked. If he could avoid killing them off by caring for them from a distance, then that's what he would do.

He stepped over a large puddle as he made his way to the shuttle bus that would take him to his job. It was parked across the street, the engine idling. Rain pattered around him, creating a wet soundtrack for the gloom hanging over the town. As he reached the other side of the street, he stopped by a vending machine to wait for the rest of the shuttle riders. The driver never let anyone on until they were all there, so he had a few minutes' time to kill. He shifted his weight and glanced over. A man stood next to him wearing a long, gray trench coat and matching gray hat. His face was buried in a newspaper, one that was written specifically for their colony. But none of that was what caught his attention. His eyes widened as he stared at the headline standing out in large, block print on the front page.

**BLOOD BANK 214 DESTROYED IN EXPLOSION...**

Ichigo gasped, heart seizing in fright. _No, please_, he internally whined. This just couldn't be happening. He cleared his throat and politely asked the man if he could read the article advertised on the front page.

"There's no point," the man snapped bitterly. "There were no survivors and no one knows what caused the explosion. That's all the damned thing says."

Ichigo didn't understand the cause for the hostility in the man's tone as he flinched at the words. No survivors? He swallowed harshly and stared at the cover of the paper, heart pounding ruthlessly at the sight of the fiery and crumbled building that'd once been the public library and then – more recently – a blood bank. Was his old man still there, or had he been taken out at the same time as Ichigo? Shiro had mentioned that humans were no longer needed there, after all. Confused, he turned back to the man.

"What – ah, what do you mean there were no survivors? I thought the humans were ordered to leave?" he asked.

The man gave him a look that plainly implied he thought Ichigo was crazy as hell. "What are you talking about? The humans weren't ordered to leave. Whoever gave you that information lied."

_Shirosaki strikes again_, Ichigo thought. The guard had obviously moved mountains to get him out of the blood bank and into the colony with his sisters. However, in the process, he'd lied. He'd made Ichigo too comfortable with the notion that his father would be fine as long as he was brought to the colony as well, even if Ichigo couldn't see him or live with him the way he did with his sisters. Now, his father was more than likely dead.

He hunched over and clutched his stomach, suddenly wracked with a pain like he'd never felt before. His umbrella hit the ground and drew a curious stare from the man beside him. He couldn't breathe. God, he really hated feeling like this and the fucked up part was it seemed to happen more and more often. He covered his face with his hands as he slid to the wet ground, soaking his work uniform. Then, he pulled his knees up to his chest and rocked back and forth, uncaring of the small crowd slowly forming around him.

How the fuck was he supposed to tell his sisters their old man was dead?

XOXOXO

_**April 2012**_

_**Karakura Vampire Brood**_

_**Karakura, Japan**_

A tall figure stood in the center of a large, circular room. He wore a black, v-neck tee, black jeans and black, silver-buckled boots. A hooded, black leather jacket rested in the crook of his right arm as he stood with both hands in his pockets. Dark, tribal tattoos raced up and down his arms and continued over his back and onto his torso. Silver cuff earrings pierced both upper ears. He was 6'2" and had the body of a Greek warrior. Hair the color of a clear, Summer sky was pulled back into a long braid that reached his waist and eyes the color of tropical island water glinted with anger. Underneath his feet, the off-white marble floor held the insignia of a snarling black wolf, curling around a red S and above him, perched in throne-like chairs on a raised platform, sat the vampire Elders. All of them glared down at him in disdain, save for one: his brunet leader, Starrk Coyote.

His lips peeled back of their own accord, and his deep voice rumbled as he growled, "I don't need a fucking human donor, Starrk."

**Thanks for taking the time to read this horrendously long chapter, LoL. **

**Next time...**


	5. Chapter 5: Suffer The Consequences

**CHAPTER 5: SUFFER THE CONSEQUENCES**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach...

**Tousen's NOT blind here, before anyone asks.**

Onwards...

XOXOXO

The Elders tsk'ed and tutted amongst themselves, passing deeply disapproving looks back and forth. Grimmjow was tempted to roll his eyes at their highhanded attempts to tame him. If his own Brood leader – whom he had the utmost respect for – couldn't do it, Grimmjow had no idea what made the Elders think they'd be able to. Still...he waited, allowing his statement to be absorbed into their thick fucking skulls. He absolutely meant what he'd said: he had no intentions of taking a human donor, never mind his rank. Never mind that he was one of the last remaining pure-blooded vampires aside from the Elders. He loathed humans. Those disgusting, powerless creatures had been the cause of his parents' death, so he found it highly unlikely that he'd go back to feeding from them directly if doing so was no longer a necessity. He stopped glaring at the Elders and gave his full attention to his leader. The brunet heaved a deep sigh and rested his chin in his palm, elbow on the arm of his chair.

"Grimmjow, I've been very lenient with you. I've closed my eyes as much as I could, but this time you've managed to cross the line," he said, deep voice silencing the rest of the Elders with ease.

Grimmjow actually shifted his feet, eyes going to the floor. His meek behavior stemmed from embarrassment. He hated bringing trouble to his leader, who was an all-around good guy, yet at the same time, he _despised_ the Elders and their pretentious behavior. He disliked authority in general, but more importantly, he _hated_ humans. He didn't understand why his kind were expected to cater to the ones in the colonies. It pissed him off.

"Starrk, what is the meaning of this?" a husky female voice inquired. "You were already aware of his actions?"

Starrk sighed again, but his eyes never left Grimmjow's. "I was. However, Yoruichi, that's irrelevant. I plan to fix that."

Dread descended and made ice slither around in Grimmjow's gut. He almost couldn't breathe through the sudden ominous cloud blanketing his head. He'd had the donor argument time and time again with Starrk, but it didn't seem like he would win this one. His scowl deepened as he glared at the dark-blue-haired man seated next to the violet-haired Elder that'd just spoken.

"You could leave him to me," Mayuri silkily voiced.

Grimmjow shuddered. _Fuck_ no. Mayuri Kurotsuchi was the definition of bat-shit insane; there was no way anyone could get him to be handed over to that guy. Hell, he'd die first.

"That is unbecoming, Mayuri," another baritone rumbled from Grimmjow's left.

His head swung around and atmospheric blue locked with solemn, steel-blue. Byakuya Kuchiki didn't often speak, but when he did, it was succinct and very much to the point. The dark-haired man wore strange, white hair ornaments and a black suit, complete with vest and tie. His long legs were crossed elegantly at the knee and folded hands rested in his lap as he stared stonily down at Grimmjow.

"Yes, well, to each his own," a charming tenor sang, breaking the crippling tension in the echoing room.

This time, Grimmjow turned to study one of the more carefree Elders, Kisuke Urahara. His blond hair was always a shaggy mess, weaving its way across his brow and forking between his iron-colored eyes. His mouth was forever curved into an amused or contemplative smirk and his attire was its usual unconventional style: olive-green tunic, cream-colored linen pants and impractical, wooden sandals. The Elder was strange alright, but he was still an Elder, so Grimmjow hated him.

"Now is not the time," the husky female voice snapped.

Yoruichi Shihouin was a violet-haired, vampire vixen. She was absolutely gorgeous, but a stickler for the ancient rules and quite strong. Terribly dangerous. Frightfully annoying.

"Yes, I do believe there was a discussion on the table already," a soothing baritone offered from beside the blond Urahara.

Chocolate-brown hair and matching eyes fooled any onlooker into thinking that Sosuke Aizen was an amiable vampire. In fact, Grimmjow would go as far as saying the man seemed harmless at first glance. And then his aura would take you down a notch or two. The guy always wore a white suit, also complete with vest and tie, and his hairstyle was cocky enough to suit a room full of narcissists. That one strand between those calculating, brown eyes was infuriating. Aizen too sat with his hands folded in his lap, but he had his right ankle resting on his left knee. Very suave and debonair. Grimmjow inwardly gagged.

"The *Anarch needs to suffer the consequences of his actions," yet another baritone voice added to the mix.

Grimmjow's upper lip curled in extreme distaste as he took in dark hair, dark eyes, and brown skin. Kaname Tousen had to be his least favorite Elder. The vampire made it perfectly clear that he held no respect – let alone _like_ – for Grimmjow, _and_ he was the most vocal about it. The shit made Grimmjow's blood boil, made him want to take the prick's head off and chuck it somewhere. Anarch? Suffer the consequences? Why should he be punished for what he'd done?

The last Elder – who had yet to speak – studied him with sharp, gemstone-green eyes. Her bright blonde hair was spiky up top and worn in two ponytails in back. She too was a vampire vixen, with a body that just wouldn't quit. She was normally silent and only added her two cents when necessary. Seemed like now was one of those times. Grimmjow shifted his weight again, nervousness inching its way along his skin. He had no idea what the Elders had in mind for him and like Starrk had told him: there was only so much the brunet _could_ and _couldn't_ do.

"Why do you kill the humans in the colonies?" Tier Halibel asked, throaty voice strong and precise.

For some reason, Grimmjow wanted to shrug and avert his eyes, but he refused to show an ounce of weakness to the Elders. Instead, he glared back through narrowed slits of blue.

"They're worthless, annoying creatures," he growled.

"They're also our food!" Tousen snapped, agitated.

"And that's what the blood banks are for!" Grimmjow threw right back.

"Do you mean to imply that the contents of the blood banks will last as long as us?" Tousen _again_.

Did the man ever shut the fuck up? Of course, Grimmjow knew the blood banks wouldn't last forever, hence the cause of keeping human colonies to begin with. However, it did nothing to dampen his hatred towards the humans. In fact, _nothing_ could.

"I never said such. I am more than aware of that fact."

"Then you should _also_ be aware that killing humans in the colonies is strictly forbidden."

Grimmjow stifled another growl that threatened to erupt like lava from his chest. He had no excuses, nor did he plan to use any.

"I don't care! We shouldn't have to preserve them like precious artifacts! They're dangerous in mobs and prejudiced and fucking stupid-" he ranted.

"How dare you? You should rot in the dungeons for your insubordination!" Yoruichi shrieked as she leaped to her feet, her long, black dress swishing around delicate ankles.

"Anarch!" Tousen shouted simultaneously as he too surged to his feet.

General discord followed.

"Alright, alright, alright! That's enough!" Starrk interjected, hand held up and eyes closed in exasperation. "I _did_ say I would take care of this, did I not?"

For the first time ever, Grimmjow heard annoyance in his leader's voice. It stunned him. Starrk was always cool, lazy, and most times aloof; seeing him otherwise was like a rabbit-punch to the head. When arctic-gray eyes latched onto him, he snapped his mouth shut and stared. The Elders went quiet and Tousen and Yoruichi reclaimed their seats.

"Grimmjow Jaegerjaques, I hereby pass judgment," Starrk started slowly, eyes serious, yet apologetic. Grimmjow felt the ax nearing his neck with each word uttered. "I restrict you to the Karakura Brood mansion for no less than two months, and you _will_ take a human donor. No exceptions. Noncompliance will result in starvation. You will _not_ have access to the blood banks, nor will any of your peers be allowed to supply you with blood bags. Are the terms of judgment understood?"

Grimmjow swallowed forcefully, only able to stare for a long few moments at first. Then, he sluggishly, _painfully_ nodded. Although he knew he'd broken the rules, he didn't think he deserved such cruel punishment. Starrk knew how much Grimmjow despised humans, yet here he was expected to...

"Yes, I understand," he gritted through clenched teeth.

"Is this acceptable judgment, Elders?" Starrk asked out of formality.

The Elders lifted their voices in a resounding chorus of, "Yes, 'tis acceptable."

His brunet leader turned back to him with guilt-laden gray eyes and said, "I'll deliver the human to your quarters by tomorrow night."

What else needed to be said? His ego was bruised, his pride shattered, and now he had the added bonus of dealing with a human in close proximity. A human he absolutely couldn't kill. A human he _had_ to feed from. He bared his fangs and whirled on his heel before stalking furiously from the meeting hall. Candles flickered as he stormed by, his rage palpable and affecting his surroundings, but he just didn't care. He needed to be alone, so he could figure out how he would go about _not_ killing his would-be assigned human.

XOXOXO

The minute the Elders left, Starrk meandered to his quarters. On his way, he asked a servant to summon Grimmjow's best friend. He'd need the silver-haired vampire's opinion on the matter of choosing a human donor for the blue-haired ferocity simmering in his rooms.

He'd just settled in his own bedroom, seated on the edge of the four-poster bed, when an echoing knock sounded throughout. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, not necessarily looking forward to shooting the shit with Grimmjow's strange friend, but what choice did he have? He was more than aware that the blue-haired vampire had no desire to feed from a donor, but his reckless actions had brought the law of the Elders down upon his head. If Starrk had not been there to lighten the judgment, he was sure Grimmjow would have been cast out and left to fend for himself without the support of a brood. Which basically meant, Grimmjow would have eventually been exterminated for picking off humans without the Elders' discretion. It was a messy business and Starrk wished his Brood Son didn't have such a nasty attitude.

With another sigh, he waved his hand and the bedroom door slowly swung open. A tall, silver-haired vampire with slitted, ice-blue eyes stood on the other side, wearing a long, white, high-collared, sleeveless robe and white, billowy pants that hugged his slender ankles. He was barefoot and displaying a wide, toothless grin, thin arms held behind his back.

"Ya called fer me, Sir?"

Starrk rolled his eyes. He'd told the vampire time and time again not to call him "sir." It agitated him.

"I'm sure I've told you before not to call me that."

"My 'pologies, Starrk. Slips my mind sometimes. Ya need me fer somethin'?"

"Yes, I do, actually. Come inside, Gin."

Gin moved into the bedroom, fluidly and silently. He almost looked like an apparition the way he gracefully glided. Once the silver-haired vampire was inside the room and standing off to the side of Starrk's bed, Starrk closed the door with another wave of his hand. He sat back on the heels of his palms and blew out a deep breath, eyes rolling to focus on the ceiling. This whole situation was entirely too troublesome.

"I've punished Grimmjow," he calmly stated.

Gin's eyes widened for the briefest of moments, before his silver head cocked to the side and he grinned. "What'd the brute do this time?"

"He killed ten humans in the Tokyo colony, and not for feeding purposes, either."

Gin's grin faded as he sighed. "That idiot."

"I agree, but you and I both know how stubborn and volatile Grimmjow is and can be. He's been restricted to the mansion for two months and he's not allowed to feed from a blood bag anymore. The main requirement of his judgment was that he take a human donor."

"Well, I know that ain't go over big wit' Blue."

"No," Starrk clipped, annoyed at the mere recollection. "It didn't go well at all. As a matter of fact, he's pissed."

"Yeah, tha's what happens when ya watch a buncha humans kill yer parents at a young age," Gin grumbled.

"I'm fully aware of his past, thank you, Gin."

"Sorry, Starrk. It jus' ain't gon' be fun getting' ole Grimm outta his funk. An' ya know he def'ly ain't gonna pick his own human."

"I'm aware of that too. Ugh," he abruptly cut himself off, disgusted. "This is so annoying."

Gin chuckled quietly, covering his mouth with the back of a reedy hand. "Ne, Starrk. Didja call me here fer what I think?"

"I guess it depends on what it is you're thinking."

"I can pick out Grimm's human if ya want me ta."

Starrk sighed again, this time sitting up straight and catching crystal-blue eyes with his own gaze. "I don't need you to go that far. Just tell me what he likes, or what he prefers. Maybe that way I can duplicate it and he won't be so inclined to kill the donor. If he does that, I'll have no choice but to turn him over to the Elders. And I don't think there's a vampire in Japan that isn't aware of the hatred between Elder Tousen and Grimmjow."

Gin's face went serious for the first time since his arrival in Starrk's bedroom as he nodded grimly. "I get it."

"Good. So...got any tips for me?"

"Sure," the silver-haired vampire said, giving that toothless grin of his. "Grimm's got a thing fer red heads."

**XxxxxxX**

Starrk sipped from a stemless snifter of brandy as he leaned back in the luxury confines of his black Mercedes. The moon was full and fat in the inky sky, soothing to his frazzled nerves. His driver bobbed his head to fast-paced, bass-heavy music, ash-white hair spiky beneath a navy-blue, cable knit hat. As they paused at a traffic light, the driver glanced over his shoulder with a wide grin, braces covering his blindingly white teeth. His eyes were dark, but his skin was pale, just like every other Ghoul. However, this one was different. He was one of four Ghouls that Starrk had created himself, and trusted enough to carry out his orders obediently and without question.

Correction: one of three.

He'd started with four, but his most trusted Ghoul had been ambushed and killed. Starrk knew of the rumors that Shirosaki had been in love with a human and broken a lot of rules as a result of his love, but the brunet didn't fault him. In fact, he encouraged it. The Elders enjoyed creating Ghouls that turned out to be cruel, backstabbing animals, but he felt otherwise. Why create a being that you wouldn't be able to trust with your own life? It was utter madness. He'd trusted Shirosaki with his soul. The moment he'd felt the disconnection of their bond, their link, he'd practically ran to the source of Shirosaki's pain. What he'd found had broken his heart.

_Starrk pulled up short in the middle of a human cemetery, heart racing wildly and eyes darting about frantically. He could literally feel Shirosaki's agony, hear his internal screams for help. And then he spotted the head of ash-white hair hanging from a pillory, feet missing and dark blood pooled along the ground. What debasement was this? He stalked forward and frowned, biting back an anguished and rage-filled roar. Shirosaki belonged to HIM. How dare someone do something so heinous to HIS Ghoul? To HIS friend? _

_He stopped in front of the pillory and stooped to one knee. Shirosaki had just enough energy to lift his head and squint at him for a few seconds before his deathly pale face broke into its signature, carefree grin. Tears streaked the Ghoul's bruised cheeks, and pain made his strange black and gold eyes bright. Yet, still he found the strength to smile._

"_Hey, Boss. Didn' 'speck ta see you here," he slurred._

_Starrk inwardly snarled, fists clenching and unclenching beside his thighs, but he fought through his fury and nodded._

"_I made you, Shirosaki. Of course, I'd come when you called."_

_Shiro softly gasped in pain and closed his eyes. "Those other Elders ain't like that. 'Specially that Elder Tousen. He let Kira die without a second thought."_

"_Who did this to you?" Starrk growled, eyes narrowed._

"_Heh. Too many ta name, ya know?"_

"_You will answer me, Shirosaki. I won't accept otherwise."_

_Shirosaki gave his classic sigh and it almost made Starrk smile nostalgically, but anger swallowed it up. "The Karakura lower quadrant Ghouls. Th-they ambushed me and brought me here."_

"_Names."_

"_Boss...it was all of em."_

_Starrk nodded and stood. It took one swipe of his hand to break the lock keeping the pillory shut, and once the wood swung apart, Starrk eased the pale being out of it and into his arms. Shirosaki lay panting, chest heaving and eyelids extremely heavy. _

"_Sleep, son," Starrk said quietly. _

_Before Shiro took his last breath, he locked eyes with the brunet vampire and said two words, "Help Ichigo."_

He'd killed them. All of them. Every last Ghoul that belonged to the Karakura lower quadrant – which was located on the other side of town, far from where Shirosaki had been assigned – had been slaughtered. Starrk hadn't ordered it done, he'd gone about completing the task himself. Justice had been swift and retribution cold. He'd saved the best for last, too. The leader of the mob of Ghouls had been treated with the same cruelty that'd been bestowed upon Shirosaki. Except Starrk had really left the garbage there to die alone. No one got away with mishandling his belongings or hurting his friends.

The other Elders looked down on him for the way he ran his Brood, for the way he treated his Ghouls, for just about everything he did, but he refused to be a stiff like the rest of them. They were stuck in the midst of old-time traditions and it was quickly becoming nothing but an inconvenience.

"We're here, Boss," Di Roy piped from the front seat. "Need me ta escort ya?"

"No, thank you, Di Roy. I'll be fine," Starrk replied a bit absently as he studied a plain-looking house through the window.

After his talk with Gin, he'd had an idea of just what Grimmjow needed. The silver-haired vampire had indicated that his best friend had a thing for males and red heads, usually combined. So, the gears in Starrk's head had gone to turning. He'd remembered running across a boy years ago in the blood bank that'd been destroyed in an explosion a few years back. The boy'd had bright orange hair, but perhaps that could pass for red? Wasn't it all in the same family? Starrk rubbed his eyes and sighed. He didn't know, and frankly, at this point, he didn't really care, either. Grimmjow needed to be tamed – not that he saw that happening anytime soon, but maybe a donor would mellow the blue-haired vampire some.

Starrk climbed from the car after setting aside his glass. It was deviating from protocol going to the human colony for a donor in person since he was an Elder and deemed too important to become personally involved. However, Grimmjow was his friend, his Brood Son. He wouldn't turn his back on the vampire in his obvious time of need. It'd taken the brunet what felt like forever to find out who the orange-haired boy was and when he did, the name Shirosaki had uttered with his dying breath made a lot more sense. This Ichigo Kurosaki boy seemed to be who Shirosaki had fallen in love with. Entrusting the youngster to Grimmjow was risky and taking one hell of a leap of faith, but it had to be done. Besides, if Ichigo could get Shirosaki to wear his heart on his sleeve, maybe the boy could work the same miracle for Grimmjow.

One could hope.

Starrk made his way to the small stoop, up the stairs and right before the door, where he paused and rang the bell. His heightened hearing allowed him to hear the chime echoing inside, hear the shuffling footsteps from the second floor as well as the first, and ultimately the grumbling voice complaining about the time. Finally, the door swung open, and there he was. He seemed a bit older, more mature and weathered, but still pretty much the same. Bright orange hair that was worn a little longer, and almond-shaped, whiskey-brown eyes that were wide as saucers and staring at him like he was a ghost. Yep, it was the boy he remembered alright.

"Ichigo Kurosaki?" he asked, just to be on the safe side.

The boy's lips parted as he backed up a step or two. "Why're _you_ here?"

"I'm Starrk. I believe I introduced myself to you a few years ago."

XOXOXO

**Next Night**

The moon shone down on Grimmjow as he sat on the mansion roof, head tilted back and eyes closed. He was trying his hardest to calm the anger swelling just beneath the surface, but he would admit, he was failing. How did Starrk expect him to accommodate a donor? Knowing how much he despised them? Knowing he would much rather kill them, maim them, drain their blood and watch it flow across the ground. His brood family was well experienced with his cruelty towards humans and empathized with his animosity. They'd even come to anticipate his moments of harsh rampage.

Now, he'd been bent over the Elders' knees and spanked like an unruly child. It was degrading and embarrassing. It was maddening. But he'd broken the rules according to the group of ancient stiffs, and had to deal with the consequences, as much as he loathed to.

He sucked his teeth and opened his eyes, glaring up at the enchanting moon. Nights like these found him wandering the surrounding cities, often-time looking for and finding trouble. Half the time it came to him. However, presently, he was forced to enjoy the bewitching call of the eventide within the walls of the mansion, morose and throwing his own spectacular pity party. As he stared up into the pitch black sky, a familiar scent reached his nose and made him stiffen up warily.

"What do you want, Gin? There's no use lurking in the shadows," he grunted, casting a dark glance over his shoulder.

An airy snicker floated from the gloom surrounding the roof's door before an ethereal-looking figure drifted towards him.

"Mah, mah, Grimm. Yer so _edgy_ tanight."

Grimmjow bit back the urge to snap at his best friend as he faced the sky again. He was positive Gin was aware of what'd happened to him, as well as the terms of his judgment, even though Grimmjow'd been avoiding the willowy vampire like the man was made of silver. This teasing introduction was rather annoying.

"You know just as much as I how adamantly I protested the need of a donor. Now, I'm being forced to have one. Of course I'm not fucking happy about it."

There was a small silence where Grimmjow could read what Gin wanted to say, but was thankful when his friend didn't. Instead, the other vampire sighed as he sat down beside him.

"Will you feed from the human?" he asked.

Grimmjow grimaced and bared his fangs. He didn't want to answer that. He really had no intentions of feeding from whatever human Starrk provided him with, even faced with starvation as the alternative. It repulsed him. In these new times, he'd grown comfortable with not directly feeding from the source, and had only been comfortable with doing so in the past because he'd been allowed to be as bloodthirsty and vicious as he'd wanted. He hadn't been required to keep the humans alive. He'd been able to embrace his true sadistic, monstrous nature. Once the New Age came around, the need to feed from humans had been negated, which had been fine with him as well.

But then the donor business had been introduced, and rules set in place protecting the remaining humans in the colonies. Grimmjow thought the notion ridiculous. Humans didn't deserve their kindness; they deserved punishment, unrelenting ferocity. So, he'd gone about dispensing his own brand of justice and revenge. Whenever he got the chance, he killed as many humans as he could, regardless if they belonged to a colony or not. It didn't matter to him. If he ran across them in the dead of night, he slashed throats, detached heads, dismembered weak and pathetically frail bodies. And he thoroughly enjoyed it. Relished it, even. Yet, all his fun had been wrestled to a stop by the blinded and disgustingly traditional Elders. Hell, he only respected Starrk because the man had taken Grimmjow under his wing after the death of the blue-haired vampire's parents so long ago. He didn't agree with the brunet's views and opinions on the matters of the humans, but his leader was entitled to deference.

"Ya know you'll starve if ya don't right?" Gin persisted, cutting into Grimmjow's thoughts.

"Yes," he clipped.

More silence. He could feel the crackling tension in the space between him and his friend and knew a rare explosion from the normally devilish silver-haired vampire was imminent.

"Grimmjow, don' be fuckin' stupid, now! It's jus' a human! Feed from it, then ignore it if that'll help, but don' starve yerself outta spite!"

"What the fuck do you know, Gin? You actually _like_ your human! What can _you_ possibly tell _me_, who hates them with every fiber of my being?"

Gin visibly calmed, the air between them relaxing as the other vampire gave a shrug and a sheepish, toothless grin. "What can I say? He kinda grew on me."

Grimmjow sucked his teeth as he looked away from his slender friend. And what exactly was he supposed to say to that? He'd met Gin's human donor and even though he'd found the male attractive, he'd dismissed it. It was merely a human, after all. He rotated his shoulders and rolled his neck, dread settling in his gut at the sight of Starrk's car rolling down the street, just outside the colossal iron gates of the mansion. It was time. Time that he refused to face. He anxiously climbed to his feet and speared Gin with a fiery parting glare.

"_Don't_ follow me," he growled.

Gin just smiled and stood. With that understanding ringing between them, Grimmjow stalked towards the roof door and disappeared behind it, intent on retreating to his other hiding place. He wasn't ready to face his brunet leader, nor the human donor he was guaranteed to have with him.

**So, I just wanted to be clear that Tousen isn't blind in this and Shiro is indeed gone. Death happens and we move on. Sucks, dunnit? **

***Anarch—One who rebels against the vampire Elders.**

**Next time...**


	6. Chapter 6: Donor

**CHAPTER 6: DONOR**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach...

**Another really long chapter.  
**

Onwards...

XOXOXO

_**April 2012**_

_**Karakura Human Colony**_

_**2:30 AM**_

He lay in bed staring at the ceiling, wondering what he should do with himself these days. Everything had fallen into routine, but he'd isolated himself, afraid to make anymore acquaintances, lest they die on his account again. You could say he'd been traumatized by the death of his best friend, the death of his unexpected Ghoul friend, and then lastly, the death of his father. It'd been a rough past few years for him, but overall, he believed he'd maintained pretty well. His sisters were taken care of and seemed to be happy, and that had a lot to do with him not telling them the news of their old man's death. They didn't know he'd been in the blood bank that had been destroyed in an unexplained explosion, and until Ichigo could come up with a way to tell the girls without thoroughly devastating them, he'd keep it to himself. At least, he still had a job and the house was fine.

As far as his emotional state, however, he couldn't say he was altogether. Some nights, he still had nightmares, still woke up crying and confused. Like he said, it was hard, but he'd manage. He also learned to follow his instincts. He learned when not to go out for work at night if he had a bad feeling in the pit of his gut. Sometimes he'd step onto the porch and the hairs on the back of his neck would rise ominously. The first time he'd ignored it and gone about his business, but after witnessing the horrifyingly brutal death of yet another human, he'd stopped ignoring his intuition. Nope. Instead, he embraced it.

Still...he felt like he was caught in limbo, unsure of what he was supposed to do. Was he supposed to live the rest of his life in fear of the cruel creatures walking and ruling the night? Was he supposed to remain listless and unsatisfied? Then, he grunted into the quiet of his room. If he wanted to live? Yes. If he had a curiosity about how death felt, then no. By any and all means, provoke the vampires and Ghouls. Make them end his already miserable existence. If he was to be totally honest, he'd admit he'd thought a time or two about taking the same drastic measures that Keigo had. But then he'd think of his innocent little sisters who needed him. Without him, they'd be alone and he just couldn't tolerate the thought of that.

He sighed and rolled over in bed, temples beginning to throb as he let his disturbing thoughts consume him. And then something strange happened. The doorbell rang. Ichigo frowned deeply, staring at the silhouette of his desk chair. Who. The. Fuck? A visitor at this hour just couldn't be good. He slowly sat up, heart starting to race out of control. There were so many possibilities, but he didn't want to dwell on them. Instead, he threw his legs over the side of the bed and ran his hand through his unruly, bright orange hair. Then, he stood and shuffled over to his bedroom door, trying to rid the slight tremble in his hands and legs. Amazingly, he made it to the lower level without incident, where he grumbled like a lawn mower as he made his way to the front door. He paused before it, studying it as if it could open up a portal and allow him a sneak glimpse of whoever was on the stoop. Was he about to be ambushed? Was he about to receive some bad news, like being taken away from his little sisters? Or were his little sisters going to be taken away from him?

_Don't think like that_, he inwardly coached.

He took a deep breath and reached for the knob before slowly twisting it and letting the door swing open. It was like getting electrocuted and doused with ice cold water all at the same time. The sight of the brunet vampire he'd met at the blood bank made him stiff as a board...and not in the good way, either. He automatically backed up a few steps and rubbed his suddenly clammy hands over his thighs.

"Ichigo Kurosaki?" the deep voice he would never forget rumbled.

"Why're _you_ here?" he snapped, totally forgetting the need to be wary of this being.

But he remembered the instant the vampire arched a brow and his head listed to the side.

"I'm Starrk. I believe I introduced myself to you a few years ago."

Ichigo paused and rethought his next step. He'd gotten way too comfortable dealing with these things from a distance. Even the Ghouls were scarcely seen around anymore. The strange part about that was they'd seemed to trickle off after Shiro's death, and then completely a few weeks after that. However, they still did patrol every now and then, just no permanent posts. It'd been a hell of a relief, which had ultimately led Ichigo into relaxing and taking advantage of their absence. He should've known optimism was a double-edged sword.

"Yeah. Kinda hard to forget something like you," he said carefully.

Starrk grinned and took his time looking around the blissfully quiet block before focusing on Ichigo again, gray eyes giving off an eerie shine in the moonlight. When he lifted his hand forward for a shake, there was amusement in them. Ichigo understood why. The last time they'd encountered one another, he'd refused to shake the vampire's hand. Shit, he'd almost been too scared to breathe back then, let alone move. Now, though? You could say he'd seen enough to overcome his fear of the being in front of him. He grabbed the brunet's hand and shook firmly, even if he internally knew his human strength was considered a joke to the night-crawler.

"Something, huh?" Starrk asked.

Ichigo quickly dropped the man's hand, stunned. He'd never touched a vampire before, but he'd had the idea that they were the walking undead, which meant cold skin and no pulses. But that was wrong if he went by Starrk's warm hand. What the hell? His stunned expression must've been obvious because the brunet vampire laughed, those wicked-looking canines flashing under the light of the street lamps. And they weren't the ridiculously long, stupidly cliché fangs from TV and movies, either. They looked like normal canines, just a tiny bit lengthier and a whole lot sharper. Which – in Ichigo's opinion – made them much scarier.

"Not what you were expecting?" Starrk inquired, totally amused.

But...there was no shame in Ichigo's game. He nodded, not even caring that he was gawking and looking the vampire over like a piece in a museum. He was seriously trying to figure out where the myths and legends had gone wrong.

"So, um," he started, running his hands over his basketball shorts again. "I hate to interrupt this, er...pleasant little visit, but...there must be a reason you're here, right?"

This sobered the vampire right up. Gray eyes darkened and full lips turned down at the corners. A large hand agitated wavy, shoulder-length, brown hair, while the other shoved itself into one of the being's dark-blue jeans pockets.

"You were close to my Ghoul, Shirosaki, yes?" he asked, tearing right the hell through that bush; fuck beating around it.

Ichigo's eyes widened before he had the sense to nod. Then, he felt an explanation was required. "He, uh...he helped me. A lot."

"I've heard. There isn't much that I'm not aware of in my town."

That kind of pissed him off. He glared at the vampire, venom filling his eyes. "_Your_ town?" he drawled, voice dry as a bleached bone.

Starrk sighed. "I understand your anger. Unfortunately, I'm not the only one in charge of things and my vote can be overruled."

"So, you're in charge of this town? Why can't you change the way things are?"

"Like I said, kid. I'm one of too many."

Ichigo sucked his teeth and averted his eyes, too stubborn to compromise. He felt like there was _something_ the vampire could've done if he was _really_ in charge of this town. He was busy sulking and pouting, when Starrk dropped a nuclear bomb on his head.

"Be that as it may, there is indeed a specific reason I'm here. I'm gonna need you to come with me, Ichigo."

...Eh?

"What?"

Numb didn't even begin to describe what he was currently feeling after hearing those words leave the vampire's mouth. Had he even heard correctly? It was almost three in the fucking morning. He could be dreaming for all he knew.

"You. With me. Tonight," Starrk reiterated.

Nope. Wasn't a dream after all. Well, that just sucked major balls.

"I don't...I can't..." he paused, searching for something to say that wouldn't get him killed, but might possibly get him the answers his mind frantically needed. Finally, he settled with, "Why?"

"Well, Shirosaki asked me to help you, and this is the only thing I can think of."

"Wait...I'm sorry," Ichigo laughed incredulously as he held up a hand, terribly close to a breakdown. "I'm _fine_ here. I don't think I need to go anywhere, and I'm _especially_ not going anywhere without my sisters."

"Ah, yes. I figured you would say something like that, so I came prepared to play a little of what you humans like to refer to as 'hard ball'."

With that, Starrk reached into his back pocket, retrieved a cell phone – God, Ichigo hadn't seen one of those in what felt like forever – and held it up to his ear after tapping the screen a couple of times. All of a sudden, it seemed like all the air around him disappeared, like he'd been dropped into the vacuum of space. His chest ached as he watched the vampire's mouth move in slow motion, his voice coming out like he was talking under water. What the fuck did this guy mean by he needed Ichigo to come with him? That Shiro'd asked him to help him and this leaving was the best thing he could come up with? It didn't make a bit of sense and he'd be damned sideways and backwards before he left his sisters alone.

The next sequence of events seemed to rush by in warp speed, but he'd tell them the slow way. Starrk made a quick call that didn't last more than a minute tops, then he was standing on the stoop, watching Ichigo like he thought the orange-haired man would try to run or something. It all screamed ominous-as-fuck and made Ichigo very nervous. But just when he thought things could get no worse...well, of course they _did_.

A black car pulled up behind the one Starrk must've ridden in and stopped for about five seconds before the driver's door swung open, revealing another familiar face. The ludicrously tall, skinny guard slunk around the front of the car with a wide, sinister grin that seemed to show every last one of his piano key teeth. His long legs ate up the distance between himself and the right, rear passenger door, where he stopped, grabbed the handle and threw it open. From there, things just came to a standstill. All, Ichigo could do was stare in open-mouthed disbelief as he watched his father walking towards the stoop, hands cuffed behind his back and eyes covered with dark shades. Even though his old man still had no facial hair and the hair on his head was still cut extremely short, there was no mistaking him. Finally fed up with the confusion, Ichigo turned his most evil glare on the brunet vampire.

"What the fuck is this?" he snarled.

Starrk's eyes went all soft and disgustingly understanding as he said, "I always knew there was a reason Shirosaki had brought me a new Brood Medic, but I never questioned his judgment, since it was usually good. However, once I started digging around to find out more about you, I learned who this medic really was. Very interesting."

Isshin made it to the bottom of the stoop and lifted his head. Ichigo imagined the man's dark eyes settled on him intensely by the way the man tilted his chin and tightened his jaws. Nnoitra had followed behind him and was in the process of undoing the handcuffs.

"So...what does this mean?" Ichigo asked, careful, but unsure. Hell, he still couldn't quite get over the fact that his old man wasn't dead like he'd thought he was.

"It means: you come with me in exchange for your father staying here with your sisters. I think that's a fair deal, don't you?"

Fair? No, he couldn't really say it was _fair_, but it was better than nothing. It was also a damned sight better than leaving the girls alone. Plus, it wasn't really like he had a choice in the matter anyway, so he supposed he should consider himself lucky Starrk felt the need to bargain with him. The brunet vampire could have just dragged his ass out of the house without much of a problem. So, that was kind of where he was with that, but...he _did_ want to know where the hell he was going to be taken. He sure as hell hoped it wasn't anywhere like the prison. He glanced at Starrk and inwardly shook his head. No, it couldn't be. The guy had mentioned Shiro asking for his help in Ichigo's case. Help didn't necessarily equate to death.

"Where are you taking me?" he asked, ashamed that his voice was so quiet and meek.

Starrk rubbed his chin and considered him. "Why don't you say goodbye to your family, Ichigo? I'll tell you in the car," he said sternly, allowing no room for argument.

Guess he'd say goodbye to his family, then.

He turned to his old man, who stood on the last step of the stoop, shades and cuffs gone. Isshin's eyes were glassy and Ichigo didn't want to put a name to what that meant. He just took a deep breath, stepped down the stairs, and put his arms around his father's broad shoulders.

"Just tell the girls I went away for a little while or something. I don't wanna wake 'em up and get 'em all upset," he mumbled into the slightly taller man's neck.

His father swallowed harshly and blew out a breath. "I love you, my son. Never forget it."

Ichigo nodded, unable to form words over the lump in his throat. Why did things always go good, only to turn to shit the moment he got comfortable? He didn't even bother making formalities with Starrk; instead, he brushed past his father and headed for the first black car along the curb, not even caring that he was still barefoot and only wearing a pair of basketball shorts and black tank. The back passenger door was already open, so he slid inside without looking behind him, certain if he did, he would crumble into useless little pieces.

He leaned forward in the seat and put his head between his knees, slowing his breathing, trying his hardest not to think about what was happening. Didn't really work, but he wouldn't allow himself to be weak. He wouldn't show Starrk any vulnerability, no matter how much the vampire seemed to exude a friendly air. Nostrils flaring angrily, he sat up and glared through the window, ignoring the tall brunet as he eased into the car beside him. Ichigo wanted to ask where the hell he was going, but really did it matter? He was a slave, a fucking prisoner. He had to realize that he had no freedom, no right to question anything. It was messed up, but it was reality.

The car pulled away from the curb and he watched his father standing in the doorway of the house. The old man's eyes were sad as they followed the vehicle's progress. Ichigo fought a growl as he wondered if this was the last time he'd ever see his father again. His sisters. He couldn't even tell them goodbye because it would've crushed them. He hadn't had the heart to do that. At least they had the old goat to look after them now.

"Do you still want to know where you're going?" Starrk asked, disturbing the silence with his deep voice.

Ichigo scowled, still focused on the passing scenery outside the window. "At this point? No. I mean, does it even fuckin' matter anymore?"

He was beyond caring. So what if he died? So what if they drained him dry? It just didn't make a difference anymore.

"I see," the brunet vampire muttered.

After that, nothing else was said and the atmosphere was left horrendously tense. The air was thick with it as they cruised down the streets. They left the residential area of Karakura and ended up in the district where nothing but luxury existed. Mansions seemed to spring out of the rolling grounds, and top of the line vehicles were parked in long driveways. What the fucking hell? This was the last thing he'd expected upon getting into Starrk's car. Especially when they suddenly turned into a winding drive that led to a set of enormous, black, iron gates. The pattern twisting through it was intricate and somewhat elegant. Almost creepy, though. The car paused before the gates for a few seconds until they slowly swung inward, granting them passage. Ichigo's heart began flying around in his chest wildly. Beyond the gates was a colossal mansion, but instead of the luxury he'd prepared himself for, the place was dark. The roof was a variation of slopes and sharp angles, and the thing even had those spooky stone statues hanging over the ledges. He glanced over at Starrk, confused. He almost forgot his anger and asked him where the fuck this was, but changed his mind at the last second. Besides, he was about to find out for himself, he was sure.

The car slowly pulled to a stop at the mansion's entrance and Ichigo's blood chilled. A tall, silver-haired man stood in the gaping doorway, wearing a strange, white outfit, no shoes and a frightening, toothless grin. His eyes seemed closed and his arms were folded across a wiry chest. Starrk exited the vehicle and slammed the door shut behind him without a word, leaving Ichigo in the car alone with the silent driver, and staring through the window like a fool. So, he figured he was supposed to follow, but maybe he really didn't have to. He sat for a bit longer, until the door opened on its own. He blinked. And then he blinked again. Had that...really just happened?

"This is where you get out of the car, Ichigo," Starrk called from the mansion's doorway, small grin tugging at his lips.

The silver-haired man at his side snickered. "Mah, Starrk, ya did good. Too bad he might be on the slow side, ne?"

A tad put off, Ichigo slid out of the car and took a careful look around, hands gripping the passenger door. Seriously, he wouldn't be surprised if ghosts floated towards him from the gloom surrounding the sprawling place. It practically shrieked House on a Haunted Hill. He would admit he didn't consider this an ideal situation, but what could he do except adapt? So, he gathered his dwindling courage and did just that as he took a few steps towards Starrk and his waifish-looking friend. He tried not to wring his hands, but he didn't think he was doing such a great job with that.

"Follow me, Ichigo. I'll take you to your new quarters," Starrk said. "Gin, have you seen Grimmjow?"

"A'course, I seen 'im. Don' mean he ain't hidin' again, though," the silver-haired being said, voice light and teasing.

And that was when Ichigo spotted the fangs. Well, that settled _that_ question. Now, he needed to figure out who this Grimmjow person was and what he had to with anything. Hopefully, he was like a Sanitizer and would take him to a hot shower and a clean bed. But that was him being optimistic again. Better stop while he was ahead. For all he knew, the "quarters" Starrk had mentioned could be nothing more than an empty cell in a dungeon. This freaky mansion looked like it had one in the basement, for sure. However, worrying about it now would do him no good.

The brunet vampire gave an exasperated sigh as he shook his head and entered the mansion's two, huge, wooden double doors. They reminded Ichigo of doors he'd seen on ancient castles in movies. They were black and had to be fifteen feet tall. Staring like an awed kid in a toy store, Ichigo moved forward behind Starrk. They stepped into a ridiculously large entrance hall, where the ceiling seemed to reach up forever, but ultimately came together in the center. An iron chandelier with sheer, black drapes hanging from it, decorated the concave slope. If Ichigo had to be completely honest, he would say the mansion was one big fire hazard, what with all the lit candles lining the dark walls. They stopped at the bottom of a wide, wooden staircase, where Starrk turned and glanced over his shoulder at Ichigo.

"Come with me," he ordered, then faced the silver-haired vampire, Gin. "Go find him."

Gin sucked in an anxious breath. "Uh, yeah...about that, Starrk..." The brunet arched a brow, waiting. "He specifically told me not ta do that, an' ya know how he gets when he's ticked off. I kinda like my arms where they are, thanks."

"Be that as it may, he needs to know who his donor is."

Time stopped, air disappeared for the umpteenth time that night and Ichigo's eyes went dangerously wide. He didn't realize he was choking and making a bit of a sputtering racket until Gin gave him an amused look, smile wide.

"I think ya jus' broke 'im, Starrk."

Starrk gave his attention to Ichigo, gray eyes a little concerned. Then he seemed to understand the cause of the orange-haired man's mental corrosion. "I tried to explain it to you in the car, but it didn't seem like you wanted to talk."

"Of course I didn't!" Ichigo yelled. "I just left my fuckin' family for I don't know how long! Did you _really_ expect me to be in a chatty fuckin' mood? Christ, gimme a break!"

Gin chuckled, and Ichigo finally noticed the man had ice-blue eyes because they were slitted open. "I dunno, Starrk. If he talks ta Grimm like that, Grimm'll kill 'im fer sure."

Fuming, Ichigo gritted his teeth and growled, speechless. What could he really say in this instance? If he was going to be a donor, then that meant this "Grimmjow" was a vampire...and vampires were way out of his strength league. If this "Grimmjow" vampire wanted to kill him, he was good as dead. Point, blank, period.

"And you think this is _helping_ me?" he suddenly snapped, remembering what Starrk had mentioned earlier. "How is turning me into a portable human snack _helping_ me? I'm failing to see it."

The brunet had the audacity to laugh. Well, he smiled, at any rate.

"I guess I should've said you'd be helping _me_ instead."

That was just completely unacceptable. Absolutely and utterly. He'd walked straight into the jaws of disaster without even realizing it. Shit. He didn't even know what to feel first. Should he start with the fear of being a vampire's blood slave? Or should he run with the rage he felt towards his helpless position? Then there was the helplessness itself, of course. Also a bit of shame. There was a whole buffet of emotions he was experiencing at the moment, but not a one of them involving happiness. He might as well just get rid of the lingering hope of ever feeling that one again. Those days appeared to be over for good.

"Ne, Starrk, that was mean," Gin chortled.

"I knew he wouldn't come with me if _he_ knew what was really going on. I _had_ to play dirty. I don't really like it because of how much he meant to Shirosaki, but I refuse to let Grimmjow charge down that same path. Sacrifices must be made," Starrk replied as he started up the stairs.

Ichigo remained rooted to the floor, hands balled into fists at his sides. He was in a den of vampires, the evil creatures crawling all over the place. Resistance was futile. He couldn't even fight for his dignity and have a passing chance. This was..._so_ fucked up.

Resigned to his ill fate, he followed Starrk, legs and heart heavy as cement. He didn't even realize Gin had disappeared as they trooped to the top of the extravagant staircase and cut a right down a long, hallway with a high, arched ceiling. He _did_ notice that the mansion had no windows, or rather, if they were there, they were hidden by the dark drapes hanging along the walls. There were even paintings situated here and there. The people – and he used the term very loosely; he was sure vampires wouldn't have portraits of humans lining the walls of their residence – were of various countenances. Wild hair colors and strange eyes. It just added to the uniform creep factor of the whole abode.

They continued their trek, passing tall wooden doors that appeared sporadically until they came to a stop at the end of the hall. This door was different. It was thick, black metal, decorated with raised screw heads. Starrk pounded on it a few times and paused before stuffing his hands into his jeans pockets. The noise was loud and echoed down the silent hall. Ichigo shuffled his feet, lowered his head and studied the floor. This was it, huh? He was about to officially become a vampire's "bitch" as Keigo'd put it. A human midnight snack. Hell, not that he agreed with his best friend's decision to kill himself, but it was quickly becoming understandable. Ichigo certainly wouldn't have chosen this role for himself, that was for damned sure. Starrk banging on the metal door again jerked him out of his thoughts.

"Stubborn brat," the brunet snapped, clearly annoyed.

He proceeded to push the door open, the metal not making a sound during its trip. That was odd. Ichigo had expected the eerie, scary-movie creaking. Starrk moved forward, but Ichigo didn't. He stayed in the hallway, not at all interested in meeting the vampire that would be his own personal leech for the next who knew how long. However, that option seemed to be taken away from him when Starrk called him from within the darkened room.

"Goddammit," he growled, sluggishly inching inside.

The room wasn't as dark as it appeared from the outside. Ichigo took in the black paint on the walls, the old-fashioned candelabras coming out of them and illuminating the interior, the black carpet, the long, black dresser, the black stereo perched on top of it, and best of all: the enormous bed with black linen. Talk about typical! It was like whoever belonged to this room was colorblind or just familiar with the one color. Fucking depressing. With a frown, he noticed a door standing open next to the dresser and wonder of all wonders, another darkly decorated room. This one was the bathroom, though. Ichigo could see the toilet and sink from where he stood, even though they were black too.

"This thing likes black, doesn't it?" he dropped into the silent room.

Starrk glanced at him, worried. "Ichigo, I have to let you know that speaking in such a manner to this vampire won't be good for your health. In fact, it'd be best not to provoke him at all."

"So, he has an attitude problem. Big deal. I've dealt with worse."

By _God_, he was lying his ass off. Sure, he'd dealt with _humans_ with bad attitudes, but this was a _vampire: _a being capable of knocking his head off without much effort put forth. But he had to bluff, or he'd feel like a bitch, a wuss. It fucked with his dignity.

Starrk had a different opinion. The brunet grabbed the front of Ichigo's tank, dragged him into his personal space and glared down at him.

"Stop showboating. You will _die_. Do you want that?"

Ichigo blinked, shocked at the sudden aggression. It was like Shirosaki that time in the blood bank all over again. One minute the guy was cool, almost friendly even, and then the next he was scary and mad.

He nodded. "Fine."

He lifted his hands in an attempt to dislodge Starrk's fingers from his shirt, but ended up sucking his teeth and waiting for the man to let him go on his own. He backed up a few paces once he did, heart climbing the walls of his chest and tongue going dry. The look on the brunet vampire's face was slightly disturbing. Since Ichigo'd met the guy, he'd never seen him so...upset. But there it was, written all over those rugged features.

"You'll see for yourself," Starrk continued, voice low and extremely serious. "Grimmjow is _nothing_ like me."

If this "Grimmjow" was so damned crazy, why was Ichigo being given to him as a fucking donor? Why couldn't he have a regular vampire? If he absolutely had to do this shit, he'd prefer one that wasn't ready to lop off his head at the tiniest instigation, thanks. He started to ask Starrk that very thing, when the brunet stalked to the bedroom door.

"I'll be back with your things," he said before disappearing.

Well, what the hell. He turned a full circle, this time taking it slow as he perused the room. In addition to the dresser, there were two black, night stands on either side of the colossal bed, an alarm clock with glowing blue numbers resting on the left one. His eyes went back to the stereo on the dresser, studying the differences from the last models he'd been familiar with. The speakers were larger and more sleek. It must've cost a pretty hefty amount.

He moved from the dresser and into the open doorway of the bathroom. More candles lined the walls. No surprise there. It seemed like vampires didn't like light bulbs or something. He did have to admit that the bathroom was lavish. Large, black, jacuzzi-styled tub, long, black marble sink, black toilet and wide, standing shower with black and gray granite walls. It smelled good in there as well, like some type of sultry and musky spice. It was a regular lavatory: towels on the racks, body wash, shampoo and conditioner in the shower caddy, toothbrush in the holder over the sink, deodorant and toothpaste on the sink counter. Very normal. You wouldn't be able to tell a vampire inhabited the place – if you put aside the darkness of it, of course.

As Ichigo went back into the bedroom, he noticed he wasn't alone. Starrk was on the other side of the large room with a short girl. She had platinum blonde hair and strange, fuchsia eyes, and wore a long white skirt, a slit running the length of her left leg, and a white, sleeveless top. She glanced in Ichigo's direction and grinned like a shark before tugging on Starrk's short, lime-green sleeve.

"Hey, hey, Coyote-sama!" she chirped. "That's the human you're feeding to Grimmjow?"

"Lily, don't say it like that. You'll scare him," Starrk grunted in response as he watched two more beings enter the room, positioning a full-sized bed against the wall.

"What? It's true! Grimmjow's gonna-"

"Lily, why are you here anyway?" the brunet interrupted, finally giving her his full attention. "You see I'm busy, don't you?"

"Like that matters to _me_! But I wanted to see what kinda human you got for the savage."

"Well, you've seen. Now, leave."

"You ain't the boss a'me!" the girl screeched, apparently indignant.

Starrk just rolled his eyes and turned his back on her. "I beg to differ, Lily."

Lily left in a huff, skirt swishing angrily around her ankles as she swept out of the room. That was when Ichigo slowly approached Starrk, a couple of questions buzzing in his mind.

"So, uh...pretty much everyone knows this guy is a loon, huh?"

The brunet chuckled and aimed a look over a broad shoulder. "He's not a loon. He's just..." Starrk's lips pressed together as he fished for words and waved his hands in the air. "He's a bit temperamental."

Ichigo scoffed. "Somethin' tells me you're lyin' your ass off."

The vampire chuckled again, but continued directing the other two beings in the room. The bed was made with simple dark-blue linen and covered with a dark-blue comforter. Another long dresser was brought into the room and pushed against the wall beside the bed before the beings left him and Starrk alone. Starrk gave him a look.

"Clothes from your old home are in the dresser. I had Nnoitra bring them. Anyway, this is your new home. Try to get used to it."

"Yeah, right," Ichigo grumbled, sweeping the room with his eyes one more time. "When does my executioner arrive?"

Starrk gave a long-suffering sigh. "I think it's best if you just don't speak around Grimmjow."

"OK, I gotta ask. Why the hell are you making me this guy's donor? It's pretty fuckin' obvious he has anger issues, and I don't really wanna die right now, even if I _am_ about to be made into a vampire Scooby snack."

"Because even though he doesn't think so, he needs you. He'll die if he continues to be so cruel and I can't have that. I've already lost one son to cruelty; I won't lose another."

Ichigo frowned down at his feet. So...Starrk was concerned about this vampire's well-being and not just playing a bad joke? That made a little more sense. He'd heard the brunet say something to that effect on the stairs earlier, but he'd been too angry to pay much attention. Yet there was still something bothering him. What the hell was he supposed to do to help a volatile vampire? He was only human, not fucking Superman, and that's who you'd have to be to contend with a pissed off mythical creature.

Starrk patted his shoulder and left the room, closing the heavy metal door behind him. Ichigo sat down hard on his new bed and rested his elbows on his knees, chin atop his interlaced fingers. As he stared across the room at the vampire's king-sized bed, he tried to come up with ways not to piss him off and die young.

**XxxxxxX**

He didn't even realize he'd fallen asleep until he felt the unmistakable sensation of eyes all over him. Had Starrk come back? What time was it? And then he noticed something _very wrong_. All the hair on his body was erect and his heart was losing its cool at an astounding rate. His breathing grew shallow as he tried to figure out why he felt like he was in danger. He wanted to move, but was ashamed to admit that he was paralyzed with fear. His hand hovered under his chin, just above the edge of the comforter.

He finally managed to fight through the crippling bout of fear and tug the cover down slowly, head inching around to face the source of such an intimidating aura. What he saw made him want to crawl beneath his blankets and stay there for the rest of his life. But then again, it – or rather _he_ – made Ichigo want to stare for a very long time. The vampire seemed to breathe aggressive power and violence. While frightening as hell, it was also fascinating. Narrowed blue eyes stared him down with so much loathing, Ichigo was surprised he wasn't choking on it. God, the guy was tall. And he had blue hair. Like, _pastel_ blue. And it was long, probably past his waist when it wasn't in the braid he had it in now. Then, he had muscles for years. Arms, broad shoulders, broad chest, ridged abdomen: he was a veritable statement of strength.

_This_ was his fucking vampire? This was _Grimmjow?_

XOXOXO

"I _told_ you not to fucking follow me. What do you want, Gin?" Grimmjow snarled from his seat at the kitchen table.

He always went to the kitchen when he was pissed, where he watched the cooks preparing food for the human donors in the mansion. One would think it odd, but the busy atmosphere took his mind away from being pissed and allowed him to relax. But he couldn't really do that with his best friend hounding his steps and pestering the fuck out of him.

"Starrk's lookin' fer ya," Gin answered calmly, his normally teasing tone absent.

Grimmjow looked up from the pattern he'd been carving into the wooden table, eyebrows severely creased. "I know that. Why do you think I'm here to begin with?"

"Grimm, ya might as well get it over wit'. The human ain't goin' nowhere."

He sighed. "I know that, too. I just...I need to calm down. If I go now, I'll kill it."

"Ya gotta kinda remember it ain't the human's fault he's here. I hate ta be devil's advocate an' all, but he ain't the human that killed yer folks."

"So, you've seen it, then," he grunted, eyes back on the table.

Gin grinned shamelessly. "I sure did. He's cuuuute," he sang.

Grimmjow sucked his teeth and angled away from his leering friend. There was no way in hell he'd fuck a human, no matter how good it looked. Gin was different. He _liked_ his human, slept with it on a daily basis and paraded it around the human meal room. It was embarrassing. Grimmjow, on the other hand, _hated_ humans with a desperate passion. It was the reason he'd avoided having a donor in the first place. He didn't want to be saddled with the extra responsibility of feeding it, clothing it, and then using it in turn to feed from...it was horrible just thinking about. Now, it was no longer a thought; it was a reality.

"I don't care."

"Mah, Grimm, I think you'll change yer mind when ya see 'im."

"I doubt it." He paused, but his curiosity got the best of him. "What's it look like anyway?"

"Oh, no! I ain't tellin'. Ya gotta go see fer yerself. No cheatin'!" Gin laughed and ambled away from the table. He was at the kitchen door when he turned back and cracked his signature grin. "Ya know, I used ta think the same way 'bout humans."

The kitchen door swung shut and the cooks that'd been discreetly watching and listening resumed their duties. Grimmjow toyed with the pocket knife between his fingers and pondered what Gin had just said to him. It didn't mean he was going to have a sudden change of heart towards humans. Not in the least bit, but he had to admit, he was disturbingly curious about what kind of human Starrk had chosen for him.

"He did it on purpose," he growled, thinking of his silver-haired friend's sneaky tactics. "He aroused my interest and now he's trying to lead me by the nose."

A tall, white-haired human spoke up from his place in front of a tall pot. "So, why don't you just go look already?"

Grimmjow rolled his eyes. Toshiro Hitsugaya was the only human that could speak to him like that and get away with it. Hell, he was the only human that could speak to him at all and remain amongst the living. He'd been with the Brood for about ten years and had nursed Grimmjow back to health several times in the past. Times when he'd dragged himself into the mansion, half-dead and hungry to boot. It was the only reason he trusted Toshiro and allowed him the freedoms the human tended to take when it came to him. Starrk had brought him on as a cook during the takeover, and the guy had been around ever since, messing with the vampires and somewhat keeping them in line with his quick wit and sharp tongue. The human was brave, that was for sure.

"Didn't you just hear what I told Gin?"

Toshiro rolled huge, aqua eyes. "How long are you going to use that as an excuse? You're not really as mean as you'd like humans to believe, you know."

Grimmjow glared and clenched his pocket knife. "That only goes for you. Don't mistake my kindness for weakness, Toshiro."

"Oh, God forbid I do that."

"Asshole," he growled and rose from the table. "I don't have to listen to this."

"Running again? You're going to have to face the donor sooner or later. And I'm assuming if Starrk has his way, it'll be sooner."

Grimmjow had the overwhelming urge to bare his fangs at the pale-haired man and wrap his hands around that skinny little neck, but he forced himself to calm down. That was the reason he was in this predicament to begin with. Wasn't really his fault, though. He couldn't help that he hated humans. They were beneath him and weak, cowardly and just as cruel as he was. Human mobs were the worst. He turned towards the kitchen door and pocketed his knife.

"I'm not running; I'm being smart."

"If you say so," Toshiro started as he dropped a bunch of cut vegetables into the pot in front of him. "How long is it going to take you to calm down enough to face your human?"

Good question. One he hadn't really thought of. He'd been too busy trying to avoid the damned thing, he hadn't considered the moment he'd actually have to suck it up and meet it. Goddammit, he really didn't want to.

"As long as I want," he grumbled as he pushed the door open and disappeared behind it.

He trudged down the long hall in the basement of the mansion, where the kitchen and human meal room was located. He glanced inside the darkened room and sucked his teeth. So, he wasn't lucky enough to have missed meal time, huh? That was kind of typical. Most times his luck was just rotten, and the times it wasn't, it didn't really matter. As he made it to the end of the hall and moved onto the dim stairwell, a deep voice met his ears.

"I figured you'd be down here."

Shit. Shit, shit, _shit_.

"Oh yeah?" he grunted, not meeting his brunet leader's gray eyes.

"Mmm. Are you done hiding now?"

He scowled and finally locked gazes with the other vampire. "I'm not fucking hiding!" he snapped. "Why does everyone keep saying that?"

"Possibly because you call the kitchen your hiding spot."

"Jerk."

Starrk chuckled and lowered himself to the step a few above where Grimmjow stood. So this was it, then. Toshiro had been right about that whole sooner thing. Crap.

"I take it you're here to force me into seeing that thing, right?"

"Yup."

"And what if said no?" he carefully asked, narrowing his eyes.

Starrk did the same and tilted his head to the side. "I'd say you have to go to your room sooner or later. Not to mention, you're almost due for a feeding, aren't you? Wouldn't be good for anyone if you skipped a meal."

Grimmjow looked away, temples beginning to throb. He knew that. Pure-blooded vampires normally had to feed once every week at the least, and his last meal had been five days ago. He was starting to feel the slight pinches of hunger that arrived to let him know it was about that time. Most times, it didn't bother him, but now that he couldn't utilize the easily accessible blood bags, he would admit he was a little worried.

"This is blackmail, you know."

Starrk had the nerve to laugh. "This is judgment. You should've thought twice before performing your human killing sprees. Did you really think the Elders wouldn't notice?"

"I didn't really care," Grimmjow mumbled.

"And that's why you're going through this. You should consider yourself lucky. Elders Tousen and Yoruichi wanted to banish you."

He flinched. Banishment was the worst thing that could happen to a vampire apart of a brood, let alone a pure-blooded one. They were restricted from the blood banks and forbidden to feed from the humans in the colonies, which basically left them alone and hungry. Rogue vampires. They were usually turned into wild animals if left on their own for too long, which was why the Elders took joy in getting rid of them. It was essentially being sentenced to death when you thought about it.

"Hn," he grunted, still too stubborn to say thank you.

Starrk sighed and glanced down at the watch on his left wrist. "It's almost meal time for the humans. You need to escort yours down here."

Grimmjow growled, anger pitching a fit in his gut and making his head hurt. Escort...this was madness. He was being reduced to a fucking butler to a God forsaken human.

"Starrk-"

"You know the rules. I recommend you adhere to them this time," the brunet interrupted, tone stern and unrelenting.

Hands tied and choices taken away, Grimmjow growled under his breath and brushed past his leader. This was a strike against his pride in a very big way and he couldn't see how he'd be able to tolerate it. He stormed to his room, candles along the walls flickering under the weight of his fury. He'd encountered about three other vampires in the halls and they'd given him a wide berth, eyes wide with shock at the sheer waves of palpable anger emanating from him. He certainly wasn't in a good mood, and anyone that got in his way right now would more than likely fall victim to the hardly leashed beast writhing within him. He was so pissed, he didn't even realize he'd made it to his room until the metal door was staring him in the face. And then he growled. Loudly.

He could smell the damned thing all the way out in the hall.

His pupils automatically constricted with rage and his hands formed tight fists. His breathing grew hitched and labored as he struggled with his temper. He couldn't kill it, he couldn't kill it, _he absolutely couldn't kill it_. That thought in mind, he squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to breathe normally as he flexed his fingers open and closed a few times. After that, he grabbed the knob and threw the door open, intending to scare the living shit out of the human inside his domain. However, his plans were thoroughly ruined when he stepped into the room and realized the fucking shit was asleep.

He closed the door and stalked over to the extra bed against the wall opposite his side of the room. The smell assaulting his nose was a mixture of the familiar scent all humans carried, along with something else. Something that reminded him of himself. He looked over the lump under a dark-blue blanket and stared at the shock of orange hair resting on a matching dark-blue pillow. It surprised him. He'd been expecting dark hair like most of the humans that filtered in and out of the mansion. The only other human he'd seen with odd-colored hair was Gin's donor. Now his own had hair that rivaled a ripe pumpkin. He stood frowning, righteous anger collecting into a potent concoction that had the potential to level his room if given the opportunity and free reign. He listened to the human's slow, relaxed heartbeat, listened to the deep, even breathing and watched the steady rise and fall of its chest.

This human was unlike any other he'd ever encountered. Most were terrified their first night in a mansion full of vampires, but this one slept...peacefully, no less. In _his_ room. Didn't the thing know who he was? _What_ he was? He gave a low grunt as the human shifted on the bed, then froze as he entered consciousness. Ah. So, he wasn't all that brave after all. As Grimmjow watched with narrowed eyes, the human's breathing hitched and grew erratic as it lay on its side, obviously too afraid to do much more than that. The smell of fear washed over him, almost arousing him. He loved it when humans were afraid of him. He thought about grinning as the human finally made a small movement, head turning slightly and alarmingly brown eyes meeting his gaze, but the face...

He frowned deeper. This screamed Gin. That wiry little son of a bitch knew what he preferred in a bed partner and this...human...he would admit...was very appealing. Looks-wise only. The bright orange hair was a wild mess that hung over its left eye, and speaking of its eyes: they were whiskey-brown and half-lidded from sleep, even though it was clearly petrified.

No wonder Starrk and Gin had wanted him to see the thing so badly. But they were sadly mistaken if they thought a pretty face was enough to get him to forget his hatred towards humans. His upper lip curled back of its own accord and the human swallowed harshly. Another warm wave of fear rippled over him, making him shudder in delight. His inner predator screamed "MORE!", but he put a leash on it and continued to intimidate the human with his staring alone. Its heart was beating so fast, Grimmjow was losing count. Finally, his sadistic nature could no longer be contained as a small smirk fixed one side of his mouth into a tiny curve.

"Scared?" he rumbled, fully aware of the bass in his voice.

The human's eyes widened and its breathing stopped completely. Even its heart slowed to a dangerously sluggish pace. Was it having a heart attack? That would be most convenient...and it wouldn't even be his fault! Well, not directly at least. Still...the human didn't say a word; it just stared at him like he was a free-floating apparition. But its fear was absolutely delicious. His grin grew as he figured out a way to cope with having a human in his personal living space. He took a couple steps forward and chuckled when it abruptly sat up and backed itself against the wall, infuriatingly brown eyes wide and glued to his mouth. Deciding he could fuck with the human much more than that, he casually walked over to the bed and sat down on it, where he tried his hardest to conjure up an innocent air.

The look the human gave him told him it didn't work.

However, he feigned seriousness and ran a hand through his hair, absently toying with his braid before turning his eyes on the human and staring it down some more. Once the fear in the air was nearly palpable, he leaned closer and let free a wide grin.

"I'm hungry," he muttered.

Just when he thought the human was too scared to do anything other than blink, it went and surprised him.

"I-I'm not sure I taste that good," it whispered.

Hilarious. He threw his head back and outright laughed. Maybe Starrk had done something right after all. Even though Grimmjow hated humans, this one at least proved to be entertaining. He gradually sobered and met the human's pathetically frightened gaze again.

"_I'm_ sure you'll be a treat."

**Why are they letting these anonymous reviews through? I thought that was the point of selecting the disable anonymous reviews option... Anyway...**

**Next time...**


	7. Chapter 7: Fear

**CHAPTER 7: FEAR  
**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach...

**So, I've noticed an increase in the update DEMANDS and the sequel DEMANDS for my oneshots. Not appreciated. I'm very happy that you enjoy my work and would like to see more of it, but give me a break, please! I'm doing the best I can with the resources available to me. On another note, maybe you guys should take a glance at my profile. That might help you figure out what annoys me because I honestly don't think some of you are aware of the way you approach me, LoL. That being said...**

Onwards...

XOXOXO

His heart needed a cast. Yeah, he was pretty sure the thing was broken.

_I'm hungry_

Holy shit, he'd almost had an aneurysm. Or maybe a stroke. The fact of the matter was this: he'd been dangerously close to death by fear. Not a very pleasant feeling in the slightest. The blue-haired vampire was still seated on the bed beside him, practically _breathing_ I-can-kill-you-right-now. How was Ichigo supposed to think straight? And why wouldn't the guy _move_? It was bad enough his presence was keeping Ichigo glued to the wall next to the bed, but the look in those frigid blue eyes...it was enough to make his spirit leave him.

The vampire watched Ichigo fidget and toy nervously with the blanket he was still wrapped up in. The smirk the guy wore was starting to irritate him just a bit, but damned if he'd let it be known. Instead, he tried his hardest to ignore it, wondering when exactly he would become a meal and hoping like hell it was no time soon. He wasn't ready. Hell, he'd _never_ be ready. How was he supposed to prepare himself to become a human buffet? Impossible!

Suddenly, the air in the room seemed to billow and snap, the flames on the candles lining the walls dancing enthusiastically. Ichigo didn't know what to make of it, but he knew for certain it had something to do with the vampire seated next to him, watching him like he was waiting for Ichigo to make the wrong move. Or _any_ move, for that matter. It was disturbing and had his heart going insane. And then Grimmjow grinned. _Again_. His grins and smirks gave Ichigo the all-overs. They made him think he was _this_ close to dying, or being devoured.

"If I could feed from your fear, I would be utterly full," the deep, gravelly voice rumbled. "It just keeps growing. You have _no_ idea how _good_ it feels."

Nor did he want to. But the fact that the asshole was getting off on him being afraid...yeah, that pissed him off.

"You're right; I _don't_," he snapped, mouth getting entirely too carried away.

He realized Grimmjow wasn't Starrk an instant too late. The temperature in the room actually dropped a few degrees, but the air grew thick with a palpable _something_. It was like it'd suddenly come alive and started filling his head and mouth. And then he couldn't breathe.

His fingers clawed at the hand wrapped around his throat, blocking any form of oxygen, and his eyes nearly fell out of his head. The strength was unbelievable, but the speed was even scarier. He hadn't even seen the vampire move.

"You _dare_?" Grimmjow growled. His eyes were still piercing blue, but the pupils were constricted into thin lines, and his teeth were fully bared. Oh, shit. "You have the _nerve_ to speak to me that way? To _me_? I could kill you right now without even trying, you _disgusting human_. Don't _tempt_ me."

Well, that would be a little hard since Ichigo couldn't even breathe, let alone speak at the moment. And even if he tried to move, he was pretty certain Grimmjow would crush his windpipe in half. No, thanks. Instead, Ichigo remained absolutely still, inwardly fighting the instinct to breathe and hoping maybe his immobility would convince the blue-haired vampire that he wasn't worth killing. Seriously, Grimmjow needed to get the hint like two minutes ago. Ichigo's head was going light and fuzzy, and his vision was clouding.

And then air came rushing into his lungs as Grimmjow let him go. He gasped and coughed, clutching his burning chest as tears filled his eyes. He'd never been in that much pain in his life. Not to the point where he thought he would truly die, at any rate. Sure, Shiro had choked him too, but that had been _crap_ compared to the punishment Grimmjow doled out. The difference in strength and power was astounding. Ichigo sagged to the bed, body bent double at the waist as he continued trying to catch his breath. He didn't even realize his nose was running until he sniffed and wiped his eyes. Damn. The vampire had reduced him to a blithering idiot all in a matter of seconds.

Grimmjow was up and pacing the room, hands clenched into fists and anger ripping through the room like a tsunami. Good. At least he was far away from Ichigo at the moment. The vampire was dangerous as a twister. No wonder Starrk had tried to warn him about the guy. Well, lesson learned.

Without warning, Grimmjow stopped pacing and faced Ichigo again, glaring. Ichigo forced his upper body to rise from the bed as he watched the vampire warily. What the hell was Grimmjow up to now? Was he going to finish the job? Or had he come up with another method of torture? Ichigo didn't really want to find out. However, he was also aware that he didn't really have a choice in the matter. Grimmjow took two steps in his direction and Ichigo was ready to climb the wall. He had nowhere to go, and if the blue-haired being wanted to kill him, then it would happen. However, the vampire stopped in his tracks, head turning towards the metal, bedroom door. He stood that way for a minute before those luminous blue eyes were back on Ichigo, sharp and intense.

"Let's go," he snapped.

...Say what? Ichigo continued watching Grimmjow, totally confused. What the hell did he mean by that? Was he expecting Ichigo to actually _listen_ after being nearly murdered? What the hell kind of joke was this? They engaged in an epic stare-down until Grimmjow narrowed his eyes, jaw twitching.

"Trust me, human. You do _not_ want me to repeat myself."

He was right, if the tone of his voice was anything to go by. Ichigo slowly disengaged himself from the blanket on his bed, then swung his legs over the side. His nerves were still completely shot, his chest pain had receded to a dull throb, and his legs were wobbly as he shakily climbed to his feet. He was somewhat decent now in a pair of black basketball shorts and a short-sleeved, white tee, so he slipped his feet into a pair of flip-flops that'd made the journey to the mansion with his other things. He stood next to the bed waiting for further instructions, eyes defiant, even if his spirit was anything but.

Grimmjow glared a second or two more before moving to the door and throwing it open. As he passed the threshold, he barked, "Come!"

Ichigo almost laughed, but definitely thought otherwise. There was no way in hell he was provoking the frightening vampire again, and since it seemed like the slightest thing set the guy off, Ichigo figured it best to keep his mouth shut and his head down. So, he followed Grimmjow from the room, hand still rubbing absently at his chest.

They trooped through the hall Ichigo remembered traveling with Starrk earlier, but instead of descending the stairs and turning off towards the foyer, they descended another set of stairs, reaching the bowels of the mansion. The lower level resembled a true dungeon. The walls were made of sturdy, dark stone, and the cement floor echoed the thudding footfalls of Grimmjow's booted feet. The vampire was moving at a steady pace; it wasn't hurried, but it wasn't slow, either. They passed a couple of tall, wooden doors, where the sound of clanking metal and running water emanated, right before Ichigo was suddenly assaulted with the tantalizing scent of _food_. Hot damn.

He wanted to ask if he could have something to eat, since the smells of spices and meat were driving his stomach nuts, but Grimmjow was a sadistic bastard who would probably get off on starving him, so he quickly changed his mind. No sense tempting fate that way. They kept moving past the doors until they reached another couple of wooden doors. Ichigo spied a bright light within, and the sound of movement was starting to make him nervous. Was he on his way to some weird vampire ritual or something? That would suck like hell. However, he didn't even have a chance to speculate before he was trudging beyond the doors and into the spacious room itself.

Well, this wasn't what he was expecting, but it was certainly a pleasant kind of surprise. Sort of. The first thing to catch his attention were the humans seated throughout the room at long, heavy-looking oak tables. That was good. What wasn't, however, were the vampires lining the surrounding walls, some with arms folded over their chests, and others lounging carelessly, chatting amongst themselves. It was enough being presented with a handful of the creepy creatures, but an entire room full of them was worth a few heart attacks. Grimmjow led him to a table nearest the right wall, where Ichigo caught sight of the silver-haired vampire he'd seen with Starrk earlier. They stopped before the thin bloodsucker, Ichigo uncomfortable with the way the guy was looking at him.

"So, whatcha think, Grimm?"

Grimmjow sucked his teeth, but turned to Ichigo first, eyes ominous as the barrel of a loaded gun. "Go sit," he bit out.

Ichigo was furious. His pride wanted to kick Grimmjow's arrogant ass all over the mansion, but his common sense made him a lot more reasonable. So, he swallowed his testosterone and slouched over to the table in front of him. Just as he went to slide onto the picnic styled bench, a familiar deep voice called his name.

"Ichigo?"

He looked up and froze, mouth open and eyes wide. The hair was longer, the face a little narrower, but the eyes were still the same.

"Renji?"

His red-haired friend blinked, then scrambled out of his seat and over to Ichigo. Arms bigger and longer than Ichigo remembered, went around him and squeezed him like a pair of pliers. He didn't know what to do at first, didn't really know how to react. He'd thought Renji was dead all these years since he'd never seen him at the prison, the blood bank, or the colony. Now, here he was. Alive. Finally, the shock made room for relief and happiness. He returned the hug and grinned, ecstatic to see a familiar face in such a hostile environment. When they pulled apart, they wore twin goofy grins, reminiscent of their high school days when they would cut the fool together.

"What the hell! I thought you were fuckin' dead!" Ichigo said.

Renji shook his head, russet eyes a little haunted. "Nah, it ain't that easy ta get rid a'me."

"What the hell happened to you, then? I never saw you at the-"

"Isn't this adorable."

Ichigo stopped talking immediately. He didn't like the sound of that at all. Renji obviously didn't either because he quickly took a seat and pulled Ichigo down beside him. They didn't make a sound, but the hairs near Ichigo's left ear stirred right before a voice rumbled into it.

"This isn't happy hour, human. I suggest you act like it."

With that, the blue-haired vampire moved back to the wall. Ichigo seethed. Goddammit, why couldn't he be fucking stronger? Why did he have to be talked down to like that? And why the hell did he have to tolerate it? It was frustrating as shit.

His hands clenched into fists in his lap as he ground his teeth together. Renji reached over and squeezed his knee, which made Ichigo look up, surprised. What he saw surprised him even further. He wasn't used to seeing his friend – Mr. Mouth All-Mighty himself – looking so afraid. It tore him up thinking about just what had to be done to get his rebellious buddy in line. Renji was the epitome of rebellious arrogance, yet the vampires had succeeded in cowing him. It was heartbreaking.

"Don't, Ich. Ya already got fingerprints on yer neck."

Ichigo's hand flew to it, trying to hide the evidence. Christ, that was embarrassing as hell.

Renji's eyes were soft with understanding as he watched Ichigo struggle with his pride and dignity. "Look, I get it," the red head went on. "I felt that way too. Got some nice scars ta prove it, as a matter of fact. But even _I_ learned how ta keep my mouth shut when the occasion calls for it."

"I know," Ichigo muttered, head lowered.

He _did_ know. He just didn't _like_ it. But a bigger issue distracted him from the sting of mortification. He turned back to Renji and scowled.

"What the hell happened to you? Where did they take you?" he asked.

Renji pursed his lips and failed to hide the shudder that shook his larger frame. Ichigo knew exactly what that meant. Almost every human that'd experienced the horrors of the prison had the same reaction when asked about it.

"The prison," Renji confirmed, tattooed brows creased. "I was there a whole two months before I got out. An' that was nothin' but luck when I did."

"How-"

Before the sentence could complete itself, two, large doors on the opposite side of the room swung open, admitting a line of more humans pushing wheeled carts that were laden with platters of food. The enticing smell hit Ichigo's nose again, but this time it was much stronger and more alluring. Conversation ebbed as the food made its way around the room. Ichigo nearly inhaled the dish set before him when he recognized that the heavenly smell was coming from the tonkatsu and sesame sauce on the plate. He dug in with abandon, stomach gurgling happily at the treat. He hadn't had tonkatsu in so long.

The food servers set pitchers of water at intervals along the tables, then handed out tall, plastic cups. Ichigo didn't come up for air until his plate was clean and he'd downed two cups of water. Now he was ready to get back to business. Renji obviously had an idea that that was what Ichigo had planned because he studiously avoided eye contact. Ichigo didn't want to force him, but he was really curious as to how Renji was able to dodge the prison, as well as how he'd managed to end up in the mansion.

Too bad he never got the chance to find out.

The silver-haired vampire, Gin, strolled over and hooked a finger under Renji's tan shirt collar, face creased in that creepy, toothless grin of his.

"Mah...time ta go, Red."

Renji stiffened, but a ghost of a grin played at the corners of his lips. What the hell? Ichigo frowned, totally confused. That hadn't exactly been the reaction he'd been expecting. He started to ask what was going on, but Renji stood and gave him a look that told Ichigo they would talk again. Then, he sauntered off behind the elfish, sterling-haired vampire, russet eyes glued to the creature's...

Eyes wide and mouth completely open, Ichigo shook his head in disbelief. What the fuck was he seeing? Why was Renji staring at that thing's ass like he wanted to grab it or something? Was there some type of vampire magic involved? The last time he'd been around Renji, the red head had been all the way straight. Hell, he'd even teased Keigo for being too touchy-feely with the guys. So, what-

Ichigo was abruptly yanked out of his seat by his arm and thrust forward, ruining his balance and making him stumble a few steps. He gathered his wits and adjusted his t-shirt, but refused to look over his shoulder. He already knew what he'd find, anyway. But _damn_, how much more embarrassment would he be forced to endure? The other vampires in the room watched him with amusement, various eyes roving all over him. His skin crawled, even as he wanted to writhe in shame. He stomped his way to the doors before shoving through them, attitude set on breathtaking. And this was supposedly better than the colony? _Fuck_ Starrk. _Fuck_ Grimmjow. And _fuck_ all the rest of the vampires. He'd had enough of them.

XOXOXO

Grimmjow watched the human storming down the hall, somewhat amused. Earlier he'd been ready to slit the orange-haired shit's skinny little throat. Talk to _him_ that way? He didn't fucking think so. But now that he'd had some time to calm down, he could look at the situation with a clearer head and even laugh at it. He'd come to realize that the human he was in charge of absolutely _loathed_ being told what to do. The look in those brown eyes when it'd been leaving the eating hall had been priceless. Now that Grimmjow knew how to get on the thing's nerves, he planned to do so at every turn, just to relieve his stress. He still hadn't figured out what he was going to do when the time came for him to feed from the human, but he still had at most a couple of days to think it over.

He followed in the human's wake, smirking and chuckling at the way it stalked through the halls. The shoulders were bunched and tense, and the gait was stiff and jerky; clear indicators of how pissed the thing was. They were on the second level of the mansion when Grimmjow realized he hadn't even told the human where to go. It had a really good memory, then. Grimmjow used his mind to open his bedroom door, startling the human for a scant few seconds. Yet, it only paused before moving forward into the darkened space. Disappointed, he followed behind. He'd been hoping the human would go berserk at the sight of the door opening on its own. Oh, well. Grimmjow had time to come up with more methods of torture for his new roommate.

He watched the human stalk over to its bed with an impressive amount of attitude before it slid under the blanket and turned its back to him. He chuckled as he moved to his side of the room and stood before his dresser. He wasn't tired, and it was still a few hours before dawn, meaning he had some time to kill. Unfortunately, he couldn't take the term literally like he'd used to. Damned Elders and their stupid, old-fashioned rules. He felt like he was in a cage, being poked and prodded, mocked and judged. Very annoying stuff.

He was fucking bored.

And when he grew bored, he grew even more mischievous.

He reached over to the stereo and powered it on, cranking the volume to an obscene level. With his keen hearing, it was enough to make his ears bleed, but when he saw the human nearly leap a foot from its bed, the entire ordeal was worth enduring. He grinned wolfishly as he pretended to ignore the dark glare coming his way. He was already naturally sadistic, so this was merely child's play. Just a fraction of how much he wanted that filthy human to suffer. The thing should be glad Grimmjow wasn't allowed to kill it. If his life wasn't hanging in the balance, the human would have been a blood smear the moment Grimmjow'd stepped into his room and found it sleeping like it didn't have a reason to be afraid.

_Come on_

_Tonight I'm unstoppable (unstoppable)_

_Incredibly strong_

_Tonight I'm unstoppable (unstoppable)_

_The world is calling me out, out, out_

_Don't wanna whisper_

_Wanna shout, shout_

_Come on_

_You know I'm unstoppable (unstoppable)_

Grimmjow nodded along to the bouncy beat as he raised his shirt over his head, completely and wholeheartedly agreeing to the lyrics. He knew they didn't have anything to do with what he had in mind, but when applied to his nightly rampages, they made perfect sense. He was "old as dirt" as Gin liked to remind him, but he still had a thing for the modern, fast-paced music called "Pop." Even though it got him teased, he didn't care. It made him feel like a child high on sugar, blood rushing and heart racing. Made him feel _good_, especially when mixed with the thrill of hunting and mercilessly cutting down humans. Just the thought had his heart rate picking up as he tossed his shirt to the floor.

He peeled himself out of his pants, then sat on the side of his bed, hand automatically going to his braid. He undid the tie at the end of the long plait, wrapped it around his wrist, and carefully unraveled his hair before combing his fingers through it. He didn't really feel like brushing it, so he let it hang freely, the strands slightly curled from being braided so long.

Even though bass invaded the room and rumbled the floor and walls, it was way too quiet. Another reason he hated being in the mansion. He glanced over at the human and had to force away the sudden shock that gripped him. Brown eyes were peering right back at him, steady and curious. Even somewhat amused. What the fuck was with this human? Why was it so goddamned strange? Shouldn't it be terrified of him? Shivering with fear, and at the very least, glaring with contempt like it was doing before? Why the hell was it watching him like he was some sort of entertainment?

It pissed him off.

He growled under his breath and turned away from those disturbing eyes. For some reason, the way the human watched him made his skin crawl with something unfamiliar and totally unwelcome. He went back to trying to tame his hair, but gave up when it seemed like a futile effort. The level of the music from the stereo was starting to hurt his head, so he stood and lowered it to something tolerable before going back to the bed and sliding onto it. He didn't crawl underneath the blanket, instead opting to lie on his stomach on top of it. He closed his eyes, doing his best to ignore the overwhelming sense of human in his room. It so wasn't working. He could smell it, hear its breathing, hear the rhythmic heartbeats... It was severely aggravating. He wanted to roll onto his side and scream at the thing to just die already. Let him be at peace for once this evening.

Shit. He had a long two months ahead of him.

XOXOXO

_**April 2012**_

_**Outskirts of Karakura Human Colony**_

_**Karakura, Japan**_

The tall, dark-haired man stood at the head of a long, dark-oak table, eyes somber and focused on a spread of maps and blueprints. He was fed up with dealing with the vampires' tyranny. He glanced across the table at his partner and friend and frowned slightly. He wasn't used to seeing the man wearing such a deep scowl. Not unless it was accompanied with a manic grin.

"Something wrong?" he asked quietly, not wanting to alert the others in the room.

His partner looked up and shook his head before glancing over a mountainous shoulder. That was a clue that there really _was_ something wrong, but his partner didn't want to discuss it in the presence of others. The man followed his partner's eyes and nodded once they landed on one of the newer recruits. The man understood then. He straightened his back and rolled up the blueprints and maps before tucking them under his left arm. He nonchalantly strolled to the door on the opposite side of the room and disappeared behind it, knowing his partner would get the picture. He took his time and made his way around the side of the abandoned building as he slipped his free hand into his pocket.

He'd had more than enough of the mistreatment of the vampires. Yes, they were stronger than humans, but it didn't make them better. Didn't make them superior. Didn't make them the gods they apparently thought themselves to be. Didn't make them anything other than the different kind of creatures they really were. The man was sure there was a way they all could have coexisted, but the choice had been taken from them before they'd even been aware of the vampires' existence.

A soft shuffling sound made his head whip around and search for the source. One could never be too relaxed these days. Fortunately, the sound had come from his partner rounding the side of the building, hands raised in peace.

"So, what's really on your mind?" the man asked.

His partner stuck his hands in his pockets, extremely broad frame casting shadows over the ground. "We got a mole in the group."

He'd thought so. He just hadn't been sure at the time, but the suspicion had been too much to look past. The woman in question was way too eager to please. Too eager to help. Not to mention, she always seemed to be around when they were trying to have discussions on private matters. Matters that didn't involve the rest of the team and were frankly, sensitive in topic. If the information gone over during those private meetings was made public knowledge, it could ruin all of their hard work and prior endeavors. It could get them killed. It wasn't worth the risk.

"It's her, isn't it?" he asked.

His partner sighed and nodded. "Me an' Hawk been keepin' an eye on 'er, an' let's jus' say she was seen in some places she had no business bein'."

"I figured as much. Have you told Crush yet?"

"He knows."

The man sighed. This was trouble. Now they had to find a way to get around the mole without making her aware of their knowledge of her true status. Goddammit.

"We're going to have to put a hold on the plans, then. We can't even be sure they haven't already been leaked. Who's handling this?"

His partner finally hit him with that signature shark-smirk. "Me an' Crush."

_Ah. That's why he's grinning like a fool_.

"Gotcha. Enough said. Let's go back inside before someone gets suspicious."

"Yeah."

They had a lot of work to do.

**Next time...**


	8. Chapter 8: Hunger

**CHAPTER 8: HUNGER**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach...

Onwards...

XOXOXO

Starrk leaned back against the plush cushions of his dark-gray recliner, feet up and eyes closed. It'd been five days since he'd brought the human, Ichigo, to Grimmjow, and Starrk couldn't honestly say all was well in the mansion. He sighed and massaged his eyes. Grimmjow – the idiot – was starving himself, just so he wouldn't have to feed from the human. Starrk had seen it in the blue-haired vampire's eyes – that distinct manic glint that spoke of an intense hunger. Grimmjow already had a bad temper, but the past few days had seen him stomping around the mansion, glaring and snapping at any and everyone. Even his best friend, Gin, had distanced himself from the other vampire. It seemed like no one was safe from Grimmjow's hunger pains. And Starrk knew for a fact that the dummy was in an excruciating amount of pain. He had to be. It was now three days past the time Grimmjow was supposed to have fed from his human. Any normal vampire would be bedridden and dying. But no – Grimmjow was too cantankerous to lie down and take his beating nicely.

The door to Starrk's room eased open, making Starrk open his eyes and glance curiously in its direction. For a moment, there was no movement. Hell, not even a shadow. Then, a quiet chuckle made its way to Starrk's ears. He grinned and sat up.

"Why won't you come in? No sense just standing out there that way, eh?" he teased as he lowered the attached leg rest of the recliner.

Another chuckle floated into the room at the same time its creator did. "You take the fun out of everything, Starrk."

Starrk climbed to his feet and put his hands into his pockets as he watched the shorter blond man edge towards him. Starrk hadn't been expecting to see him this evening, but it wasn't like he was about to complain. His grin stretched a little more as he took a few steps forward, meeting the other vampire in the middle of the room.

"You know that's not true. In fact, I put the fun in a lot of things we do."

Dark, steel-colored eyes glinted up at him over the edge of an off-white paper fan. "I stand corrected."

"Not that I'm not thrilled to see you," Starrk started, voice filled with mischief. "But what brings you here tonight? I thought you were coming tomorrow."

Elder, Kisuke Urahara, removed the strange green and beige hat he wore and tossed it onto Starrk's recliner before sighing dramatically. "I couldn't wait that long."

Starrk moved even closer, until he was standing directly in front of Kisuke. His hands came out of his pockets and went around the blond's waist. He found purchase along the sides of the light-colored tunic the Elder wore and pulled the vampire to his chest.

"Are you aiming for flattery, Kisuke?"

Kisuke gave his signature mysterious grin as he folded and tucked away his fan. Then, he placed a hand on Starrk's chest. "No need for that. I'm just telling the truth. Besides, it's not like you don't know this already."

"I do. I know there's more up your sleeve, though. There usually is."

"I have no idea what you mean," Kisuke said, grin spreading.

Starrk chuckled and shook his head. He had to admit, if he didn't already know the blond vampire was lying, there was no way he would figure it out.

"Spit it out already," he ordered.

"Well, you seem...oh, I don't know. Pissed?" Kisuke teased, but there was a hint of real concern in his iron gaze.

Starrk had been afraid of that. The only being on the planet able to discern when he was upset was the Elder standing before him, putting on airs. Kisuke Urahara could be a flippant suspense novel, but he was dangerously smart and cunning. Not to mention, they were lovers, so it made sense that Kisuke would see right through his disguise. Starrk sighed and backed up towards his bed, where he plopped down on the edge.

"It's Grimmjow," he grumbled.

Kisuke's grin was evident in his voice as he followed Starrk to the bed. "Isn't it always?"

"Yes, but this time, he's a danger to all the humans in the mansion. Not only that, but if he lashes out against the other vampires, they could be in danger as well. There are only a handful of us stronger than he is," Starrk explained.

"I thought he was adhering to his judgment?"

"He is. Mostly."

"Explain, if you will," Kisuke said as he took a seat beside Starrk.

Starrk rubbed a hand over his face before glancing over at his blond lover. "He won't feed from the human I assigned him. And he's _hungry_."

The gravity of the situation finally settled in for Kisuke, if the look on his face was any indication. Blond brows were hidden beneath his shaggy fringe, and his lips were parted in surprise. He was staring back at Starrk as if he'd just had a close encounter with a silver stake.

"That's...not good."

Starrk scoffed and rolled his eyes. Leave it to Kisuke to make the understatement of the century. "That's putting it mildly, Kisuke."

"What do you plan to do?"

"What _can_ I do?"

Kisuke arched a brow. "Make him feed! He's being irrational! Don't you think this has gone far enough?"

Starrk sighed, exasperated. Of course, he did. But Grimmjow was his own vampire and fucking stubborn to boot. However, Starrk wasn't in the mood to argue. He nodded agreeably as he faced Kisuke and leaned towards him. It didn't take the blond long to get the picture.

XOXOXO

Grimmjow lay panting on his bed. He'd sent the orange-haired human off to dinner with Gin and his red-haired donor in order to have a moment alone. He'd tried retreating to the roof like he normally did when he wanted a little solitude, but Starrk had felt the need to corner him there and demand that he feed from his human. It was annoying. Yes, Grimmjow was three days past his feeding time limit. Yes, he was _severely_ hungry. And yes, he was in agonizing pain. But he refused to take an ounce of blood from the orange-haired thorn in his side.

At this rate, he'd probably end up killing it anyway.

Grimmjow rolled onto his side and doubled over. He clutched his abdomen with one hand and gripped his aching jaw with the other. His teeth felt like they were on the verge of falling out, and his stomach was in knots that just kept tightening and tightening. He gasped and groaned. Why, oh, _why_ couldn't Starrk just give him a break, and let him eat the way he normally did? It wasn't fair. Grimmjow slid from the bed, unable to lie still. The pain was to the point where he absolutely _had_ to move in order to distract himself from it. He puddled onto the floor and sat there for a beat, still holding tight to his gut. Sharp, shooting arrows of what-the-_fuck_ ricocheted around inside him, making him want to bellow and scream his lungs apart. Instead, he slowly crawled to the bathroom, intent on sitting in a tub full of warm water and hoping for the best.

He had a mind to burn some candles or something just to rid his senses of the overbearing pressure of _human_. It was everywhere – even sticking to his clothing and bed sheets. And to make matters worse, the human seemed to _know_ something was wrong with him and thought _pitying_ him was a good route to take. He would've killed the little prick if he wasn't so distracted by the pain rocking his body.

Grimmjow made it to the side of the bathtub and carefully twisted the knobs. The jacuzzi's water jets sprang to life, shooting water from six different spouts. He tested the temperature and nodded, satisfied. Then, his hand dropped to the side of the tub. The pain was exhausting him. It made him irritable and twitchy, and made him want to lash out at everyone that crossed his path. Especially that fucking human. Gin had told him it had a name – something Gin's donor had told him. Not that it mattered. Grimmjow had no intentions of using it anytime soon. But the damned thing was driving him nuts, giving him these disgusting looks filled with what? _Sympathy_? _Pity_? Grimmjow couldn't really decide, but both were equally bad.

A few more razor-tipped darts hit the board in his stomach and made him curl up on the floor beside the tub. He bit back a groan and hissed. He'd never been this hungry in his life – not even when he'd been a child. It was frustrating. Maddening, even. There had been a couple of times where he'd been extremely close to attacking the human in his room. Those brown eyes and that unmarred, tanned skin had tempted him plenty, but the incident that stood out to him the most was the time the human had dressed near its bed, which it usually didn't do. It normally dressed in the bathroom. Before his hunger had hit him, Grimmjow had always found the way humans were so modest about their nudity quite funny. Now, he rather appreciated it, even if he refused to admit it aloud.

The human had been standing near its bed, however, in only a scandalously tight pair of boxer briefs. Grimmjow remembered because they had been black – his favorite color. The human was obviously healthy since its back was broad and not lacking in what seemed like yards of toned and sculpted muscle. And of course, its back presented another problem entirely. After traveling down, Grimmjow's eyes had only one direction left to go: up. The human's neck was long and sturdy-looking; in other words, a veritable feast. Grimmjow had ended up grabbing his jaw and stumbling his way into the bathroom – not that that had helped. The human's smell had filled the space like cotton balls in a glass jar. He'd plopped down on the closed toilet lid and rested his head in his cradled arms until he'd been able to get himself together.

The other incident had seen him returning to his room from a trip to the kitchens. He'd been talking with Toshiro – or rather, being scolded. Toshiro could see that he was starving himself and had thrown a pan at his head for being a "stubborn imbecile." The asshole was lucky Grimmjow hadn't been on his best foot, or else Toshiro may have lost his head for being so bold. But Grimmjow had stepped into his room, stomach cramping and teeth aching, only to see the human stretched out on its bed in nothing but a towel. Grimmjow remembered wondering just what had made the thing so fucking exhausted, it'd had to pass out on its bed, damned near naked. On top of the covers, no less. Granted, Grimmjow often left his room in search of some type of peace or reprieve, but that didn't mean the human could do whatever it pleased in his absence. It was still _Grimmjow's_ room. In truth, he'd mostly been disgruntled because he'd had to look at the human's head turned to the left, neck exposed enticingly. It had been like a clear taunt.

_Come. Bite me_.

Grimmjow had shuddered and forced himself into his new hiding place: the bathroom. At times it was just _so hard_ to ignore the relentless temptation of grabbing the blasted human and biting the shit out of it. But if he did that, he would maim it, then probably drain it. And that was expressly against the rules.

_How very annoying_.

He slowly sat up as the current wave of misery subsided. A wayward thought occurred to him as he glanced into the tub again. Where the hell was he supposed to gather the strength to strip and climb inside? He leaned against the side of the tub and blew out a deep breath. Starrk had told him he was being foolish for not feeding from his assigned human, and Grimmjow supposed the Elder was right, but he hated humans with a fierce passion. There was _no way_ he could tolerate drinking from a human. Not unless he was able to be as rough and brutal as he liked. Since that wasn't the case, he wouldn't put himself through the torture.

Looked like his time was running out, though. He was _hungry_. He was so hungry, he was actually _dying_. There was no other way to explain the cramps and shooting pains in his gut and the aching, throbbing in his mouth. His fangs felt like if he touched them, they would crumble into nothing. Suddenly, an image of the orange-haired human stretched across his bed flashed before Grimmjow's eyes. He gasped and grabbed his jaw as his gums gave a nasty throb. This was ridiculous; but he was also lucky. Most vampires wouldn't survive past their second day of not feeding. Not unless they were incredibly strong and immensely stubborn.

He shook his head and tried blinking away the pain. It didn't really work, but he forced himself to his feet, where he carefully undressed and sat on the edge of the tub. His limbs were trembling and his head was beginning to pound at a steady rhythm, heaping torture on top of torment. His breathing was labored as he swiveled and eased himself into the warm water. He leaned forward and shut off the tap before resting his back against the cool porcelain. It felt good against his heated skin and quaking body. He closed his eyes and tried to relax, tried to distract himself from the way his body demanded he feed.

XOXOXO

Ichigo was on cloud nine. It'd been three full days since he'd been accosted by his frightening, yet annoying as hell vampire "guardian." He didn't know what had brought about the change in Grimmjow, but he was damned grateful for it. The blue-haired creature had gone from overbearing and persistently childish, to almost tame and indifferent. At first, Ichigo had been alarmed, thinking maybe Grimmjow was cooking up another way to offend him, but then he'd noticed how in the last couple of days, the vampire seemed like he was in pain and too tired to do more than go to the bathroom and lay in his bed. Ichigo still hadn't let his guard down – that would've been foolish. But he would admit to a large amount of curiosity. It was strange seeing the powerful vampire almost bedridden. Grimmjow hadn't even managed to scrape up the energy to take Ichigo to the dining hall that night. So odd.

Which left Ichigo staring at his red-haired friend, very intrigued. Renji had been dropping little disturbing hints over the last few days, but Ichigo was too nervous to ask about them. He didn't know if what he wanted to ask would get Renji in trouble, so he kept his mouth shut. However, Renji seemed to know a lot more about vampires than Ichigo did, so he figured it would be safe to at least inquire about Grimmjow's recent behavior.

"Hey, Renji," he started, fingers idly toying with a set of wooden chopsticks. "What's it mean when a vampire starts acting like it's sick or something?"

Renji frowned as he faced Ichigo. "Sick? Vampires don' get sick, Ich. Whatcha' talkin' 'bout?"

It was Ichigo's turn to frown. How else could he describe what was going on with Grimmjow? "Well, he's sure actin' sick."

"He?"

Ichigo blushed, embarrassed. He hadn't meant to let that particular cat out of the bag. He'd just wanted to give Renji the impression that his question was a general one. Hmm. How to cover up?

"Uh...ah, yeah. Just, uh..."

He was floundering pitifully. He peered at Renji from the corner of his eye after turning away and averting his gaze. The red head was grinning, clearly shameless and thoroughly amused.

"Ya talkin' 'bout _yer_ vampire, Ich?"

"He's not _my_ vampire!" Ichigo snapped. "And I'm not _his_ fucking human!"

Renji held up his hands. "Easy, Ich. It's just a figure of speech. Sheesh." Ichigo fumed while Renji sat and watched him, small smile pulling at his mouth. After a brief pause, Renji cleared his throat. "So, uh...what were ya sayin' 'bout yer – I mean the vamp you room with?"

Ichigo shot Renji a quick glare before huffing and explaining himself. No sense trying to hide it now. "He's acting weird. Why do you think he didn't come with us tonight? And I think the silver-haired vampire you stay with knows something. It's almost like he's been avoiding Grimmjow or something."

Renji folded his hands together on the table and pursed his lips. "Hmm. What d'ya mean by weird, though? Ya said he was actin' sick, but vampires don' get sick."

"OK. He hardly gets out of bed, and when he does, it's to go to the bathroom. A couple of days ago, he wasn't so bad; he even managed to make it out of the room and go off to wherever it is that he hides himself in the mansion. But since the day before yesterday, he hasn't moved from the room. And he's always making these faces like he's in pain."

Renji was quiet for a long few moments. Ichigo, however, was restless as hell. What was the other man thinking? Why was his face suddenly so serious – as if Ichigo had just shared the news that he had a terminal illness? The human servants in the dining hall came past their table and collected the platters and bowls they'd used for dinner, but Renji still didn't say anything. Finally, Ichigo lost his patience.

"Renji!" he barked. "What the fuck? You gonna answer me or what?"

Renji sighed, long and deep. Then, he shook his head sadly. "Does he hold his stomach, or his face?"

Ichigo scowled, but thought about it. Now that Renji mentioned it, Grimmjow had been holding his jaw like he had a toothache a couple of times. And he definitely held his abdomen like he was in the throes of a killer stomach virus.

"Yeah," Ichigo grunted in response.

Renji stared at him, face haunted and worried. "Ich, he's hu-"

"Time ta go, Red."

Ichigo's head swiveled around at the sound of that light tenor. The silver-haired vampire, Gin, stood behind Renji, eyes opened and focused intently on Ichigo's face. Ichigo almost cringed, but refused to show an ounce of weakness. Didn't keep him from wondering what the hell he'd done to the vampire, though. Gin hooked a finger under Renji's shirt collar like he normally did when it was time for Renji to leave the table and the dining hall, and Renji quietly obeyed the implied order. He looked at Ichigo one last time, face filled with so much remorse, it made Ichigo's skin crawl. What the hell? He hadn't even been able to find out what was going on with Grimmjow. And it'd seemed like Renji had known about it and had been about to share the news.

_Damn_.

Ichigo rose from the table and sighed as he made his way to the double doors of the dining hall. He was still confused, still plenty curious, but, unfortunately, no closer to receiving any answers to his questions.

The trip back to the room he shared with Grimmjow was silent and filled with a war of thoughts raging in his head. He couldn't stop wondering what Renji had been about to say before Gin had stepped in so inconveniently. Ichigo opened the door and stepped inside. His eyes immediately landed on his hostile roommate. The blue-haired vampire was seated straight ahead of Ichigo, perched on the side of his bed, broad, strong-looking back presented, elbows on his knees, and face buried in his hands. When Ichigo took a closer look, he noticed Grimmjow was shaking slightly, from his shoulders to the hands covering his face. It was unnerving. He'd never seen the vampire in such a state. His gut told him to jump in front of Grimmjow and scream a laugh at the vampire's face, but his mind knew _way_ better than that. That was suicide.

Ichigo slipped into the room and shut the door behind himself, trying to be as quiet as possible. Not that it mattered. Grimmjow's senses were like a cat's – except amplified to one million. Case and point, as soon as Ichigo moved towards his bed, eyes still on Grimmjow, he noticed the vampire's shaking stop and his head lift the tiniest fraction, as if he were scenting Ichigo through the cover of his fingers. There was no way Ichigo could do anything and go undetected in the vampire's presence. It was literally impossible. With a sigh, he trudged over to his bed – which was diagonally to the right and about twenty feet away from the vampire's – and sat down, ready to swing his legs up and bury himself beneath his blanket. But...something strange happened.

Grimmjow's hands lowered, but he remained facing the dresser across from his bed.

"Human."

Ichigo stared in awe. The deep voice had cracked, like its owner was filled with a bitter anguish. It caused Ichigo to give the intelligent response of, "Uh...huh?"

Grimmjow paused, his breathing labored and blue eyes sliding shut. After a short moment, he opened them and turned his head in Ichigo's direction. Ichigo almost recoiled at the sight. Grimmjow looked like he'd gotten his ass kicked _and_ stomped. His normally bright blue eyes were darker, his hair was damp and limp and hanging over his shoulder in tangled tendrils, and the vicious scowl he usually sported was absent.

Fuck what Renji said; Grimmjow looked like he was dying. Ichigo gave the barest of smirks.

_Good for him. He deserves every bit of it – evil asshole_.

It was like the vampire had read his mind because those blue eyes narrowed, and that strong-looking, angular jaw twitched. Ichigo started panicking a little too late. Grimmjow had somehow found the strength to stand and start making his way to Ichigo's side of the room. This was _bad_. Ichigo's heart started racing and his palms started sweating. Even though Grimmjow seemed a bit weakened at the moment, there was no telling what the vampire was still capable of. Ichigo didn't really want to find out, either.

Unfortunately...the candle flames started flickering and the air in the room grew thinner and a lot colder. Ichigo took a hesitant breath and wasn't very surprised to see a cloud form in front of his face. He rubbed his hands together and tried not to think about the big, intimidating vampire heading his way. Talk about no dice? The fact that Grimmjow had on a pair of black boxers decorated with red lips did nothing at all to lighten the situation. Ichigo tried to hide the sudden shaking of his own hands and limbs. After experiencing Grimmjow's wrath his first night in the mansion, Ichigo was terrified out of his mind at the look of sadistic determination written all over the blue-haired vampire's face. And suddenly, as if someone had just flipped on a light, a few things settled into place and started making a whole lot of sense for Ichigo.

Grimmjow had been acting like he was sick. He'd been holding his stomach like it was killing him. And...maybe it was. Ichigo had allowed himself to somewhat relax and fall into a familiar routine, consequently forgetting the sole purpose of his being assigned to a vampire in the first place.

He was a donor.

And Grimmjow looked mighty fucking hungry.

His heart rate picked up again as he studied Grimmjow stalking towards him. All his brain could supply him with was a desperate "oh, shit!" Ichigo agreed wholeheartedly. Was it really time for him to become Grimmjow's human buffet? Was this really happening? He glanced around, eyes wild. He had nowhere to go. Nowhere to run.

_Fuck!_

Grimmjow didn't stop moving until he was seated right beside Ichigo on the bed, not an inch of space between them. By then, Ichigo was on pins and needles. He felt like he'd already had a couple of heart attacks and was just waiting on the one that would put him down for good. Grimmjow's body was hot, contrary to the myth Ichigo had once believed about vampires. That fact was stapled into place as the vampire leaned over and...sniffed him?

Grimmjow rumbled unintelligibly and put his left hand on Ichigo's left thigh. Ichigo's neck felt like it was glued in place as he forced it to move. He peeked at Grimmjow, positively petrified. Ichigo's lips were parted, allowing the soft huffing breaths he was trying to disguise to slip through. He didn't think it was working, but that was hardly a point of interest. Grimmjow's cheek was now resting against Ichigo's left shoulder. What the fuck was going on?

After a few heaved pants, Grimmjow's deep voice muttered something that made ice slide down Ichigo's back.

"I'm hungry." Grimmjow's head came off Ichigo's shoulder, and Ichigo was able to look up into dark, slitted pupils, swimming in ocean-blue irises. "But I hate humans," the vampire growled, lifting the hairs all over Ichigo's body.

What the fuck was he supposed to say? It was _loudly_ evident that Grimmjow wasn't fond of humans, so that news wasn't exactly _new_.

Ichigo held his breath as Grimmjow drew his right knee up on the bed and turned to face Ichigo. Grimmjow gripped Ichigo's left shoulder, leaned down into his neck and forced Ichigo's head to the side. Ichigo didn't move when the vampire's warm, wet tongue traced a slow path along his carotid artery. He _wanted_ to. _Damn_, did he want to, but he figured it wouldn't be such a good idea at the moment.

Grimmjow shocked the hell out of Ichigo with what he did next. A low sound that dangerously resembled a whimper came from Ichigo's neck, and it made him stiffen even more. He hadn't been expecting that.

"Fuck," Grimmjow snarled.

The vampire's hand left Ichigo's thigh and came up to the other side of his neck. Ichigo fought the pressing urge to squirm as Grimmjow's breath tickled the fine hairs at his throat. He lost a little bit of his iron control and stared helplessly across the room at the vampire's bed.

"Shit," he breathed, so scared, it felt like his face was twitching. "Shit."

Grimmjow's hand tightened on his neck, and his tongue was on the move again. That whimper made itself heard one more time, and Ichigo just didn't know what to think anymore. Grimmjow mumbled something that Ichigo strained to hear. When his terrified mind finally registered it, he swallowed forcefully.

_Just this once_

Huh? What was-

A sharp, almost searing pain pierced his neck, not only startling him, but also making him cry out loudly. His muscles tried to seize up as his hands came up and pushed against Grimmjow's broad shoulders. It was like shoving at a mack truck, or better yet, a brick wall. There was no way he was getting the powerful vampire to move. Not only that, but after Ichigo's fruitless shove, Grimmjow seemed to bite down harder, his grip on Ichigo's neck tightening. When the vampire growled like a possessive dog, Ichigo froze, but his hands remained on Grimmjow's shoulders. They trembled like he was standing in freezing weather, and his breathing had hiked up into the hyperventilation zone.

Honestly, he wanted to shed tears. It was like waiting to be bitten by an animal. And Ichigo was panicking like the small prey that he was. Grimmjow moaned, a low and deeply satisfied rumble that vibrated into Ichigo's side. And suddenly, Ichigo was pushed down onto his bed, the now obviously hungry vampire straddling him. He closed his eyes and bit back the cry that was trying to force its way out of him. Grimmjow's teeth had clamped down into his neck during the small trip, and the pain was nearly overwhelming. He couldn't get his breathing together, and his mind was far from helping him at this point. It was simultaneously telling him he needed to breathe faster to keep up with his racing heart, and that he needed to calm down and breathe slowly.

_Is this what a nervous break-down feels like?_ he thought as he flinched and stifled another cry.

Sharp stinging shot through his neck each time Grimmjow moved. Even the slightest millimeter caused excruciating pain. Not to mention, the blue-haired asshole was heavy and strong and bearing down on Ichigo like he expected Ichigo to try and escape. Then, Grimmjow gave another growling moan, and Ichigo's body unwillingly began to relax. He felt sluggish, as if he'd just had a hot bath after a hard workout. It suddenly occurred to him that maybe he was getting so tired and almost sleepy because he was losing too much blood. There was definitely a certain amount that a human could have taken from it, without it causing any trauma, and Grimmjow was either toeing the line of that amount, or belligerently crossing it. Ichigo had his money on that last option. The vampire _had_ appeared to be starving as he'd stormed his way over to Ichigo's bed. Maybe Grimmjow had no control over his hunger? Maybe he was just getting a bit carried away? Didn't matter. Ichigo wasn't ready to die.

He pushed against Grimmjow's shoulders again, but he was so weak, his arms ended up falling limply to the bed. He tried to make a noise to indicate that Grimmjow was going too far. Maybe the vampire would get the picture and back off some. Wishful thinking? He had to do _something_, though. Ichigo cleared his throat – or at least he _tried_. Nothing came out. Hell, his throat didn't even move. But – as if that weren't alarming enough – his frazzled mind still managed to register a hard _something_ poking him in the stomach.

_What?_

Maybe it was the blood loss making him feel things that weren't really there. Maybe his mind was just adding insult to injury by fucking with him. Yeah, because there was no way in this world Grimmjow had a raging woody that was trying to spear Ichigo in the gut. _Nah_. Then, Grimmjow shifted over Ichigo as if to get a better grip on him, and the _hard thing_ stabbed Ichigo again.

So...maybe he wasn't imagining things after all.

Ichigo didn't know whether to feel disgusted or just downright scandalized. Not to mention, scared to death. He was really hoping Grimmjow didn't have a side of sex on his mind. If he did – well, Ichigo would surely die because no matter how strong Grimmjow was, Ichigo wasn't about to just let the vampire have his way with him in that manner. The blood thing was different. Ichigo could someday find a way to deal with it. But _sex_? With not only a vampire, but a _guy_ vampire? _Fuck_ no.

Just as his temper was set to skyrocket, that sleepy feeling washed over him again, this time much stronger. So strong, it made his eyes roll shut and his head loll to the side. _Shit_. He was really going to die in this bed. Meanwhile, Grimmjow was getting full off of _his_ blood! That was all kinds of fucked up. Ichigo opened his eyes. The lids raised slowly since he felt like he'd been drugged. His body refused to move, and the stinging in his neck had turned into a strange, pulling sensation. It wasn't bad – just _weird_. He was ready to give up at this point. It didn't seem like Grimmjow had any plans to let up, which was pretty rude, if you asked Ichigo. Ichigo's eyes slid shut again, and everything faded to black.

**So, I've updated. The date is 10/3/2012; the time, 8:48 pm Eastern Time Zone. PLEASE DO NOT "UPDATE SOON" ME TO DEATH! I would appreciate it greatly! Also, threatening me and cursing me out because of a "cliffhanger" won't bring any updates. Consider that if you decide to review!**

**Thank YOU for reading, thank you, Junichiblue, for beta-reading, and I hope you enjoyed.**

**Next time...**


	9. Chapter 9: Lust

**CHAPTER 9: LUST**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach...

Onwards...

XOXOXO

Starrk's voice barked into the silence of the bedroom, resounding harshly like the clanging of a church bell. Grimmjow almost put his hands over his ears a couple of times, but knew if he wanted to get through this scolding with his hide still in tact, doing so was a bad idea. He wouldn't even look his brood leader in the eye. The other vampire was in a rare state of fury, and Grimmjow was actually afraid of making the wrong move. Starrk was one of the very few who was stronger than him, so purposely provoking him was out of the question.

"What the fuck were you thinking?" Starrk snapped, deep voice ominous as thunder. "Are you _trying_ to be banished? Do you _want_ to be left to fend for yourself against a board full of Elders? This stubbornness has to stop, Grimmjow! What will it take for you to come to your senses?"

Grimmjow stared across the room at the orange-haired human lying on its bed. One of the brood medics had wrapped its neck with a thick layering of bandages and performed a blood transfusion on it. Grimmjow grimaced at the sight of the bloody, balled up sheets tossed in the corner of the room closest to the human's bed. He would admit, he'd gone a tad overboard. He glanced at the human's pale face again and hid a sheepish smirk behind a cough. Correction. He'd gone a _lot_ overboard. In fact, he'd damned near killed the thing. But how could Starrk blame him? Starrk of all vampires knew how Grimmjow felt about humans, and especially how he felt about feeding from them directly.

A cold blast of air whipped across his face, bringing his attention back to his irate brood leader. Starrk stood over him, gray eyes cold and furious and lips stretched into a thin, angry line.

"You're not even listening to me," the Elder vampire growled.

"I _am_ listening."

"Are you really?! Your fucking human almost _died_ because of your pigheaded behavior! And it's not as if you didn't know this would happen! You starved yourself until the brink of death before you actually decided to feed! You should have had a witness in the room in order to prevent this!"

Starrk stopped yelling and began pacing the space in front of Grimmjow's large bed. Grimmjow felt a shard of guilt slide around inside of him at the frustration and anger pouring off of the vampire he'd considered a father since the death of his own. He hadn't meant to be such a burden, but there were certain bridges he wasn't willing to cross just yet. The only reason he'd even tolerated drinking from the human assigned to him in the first place was because he'd been lying at death's door. Nothing less could have gotten him to do such a heinous thing. What was feeding if one couldn't kill its prey?

"You need to be disciplined!" Starrk snapped as he came to an abrupt stop. He glared down at Grimmjow and shoved his hands into the pockets of his black, silk lounge pants. "Since you've revived your health by gorging yourself, I expect to see you in the training room in an hour. Don't be late, Grimmjow."

With that, Starrk stormed from the bedroom, the door slamming shut behind him on its own. The cold bite to the air slowly subsided, and the candles lining the walls stopped flickering. However, the menacing aura that had surrounded the brunet brood leader seemed to linger in the room. Grimmjow carefully stood and made his way over to the other side of the room, where the human lay in recovery. It was all this creature's fault that he was in so much trouble – this one and the rest of its kind. If it wasn't such a taboo to kill humans, Grimmjow would still be in his element.

He stared down at the bright head of orange hair on the human and frowned. He'd never seen a human with hair that shade before. He'd seen red, of course, but this wasn't red. _This_ was tangerine-orange. He lowered his eyes to the human's face, refusing to entertain the thought of how intriguing its hair was. But that just presented him with the recollection of how fun it was to get the human's nut-brown eyes to light with fury and annoyance. As Grimmjow's eyes went lower and lower, he had to fight with himself about each character they landed on. The human's lips were bloodless and dry at the moment, but normally, they were full and flesh-colored. Its jaw was angular and stubborn, similar to his own, and its neck... Grimmjow quickly averted his gaze. Even though the human's neck was covered in a thick bandage, the spot of blood decorating it was still tempting. It was more than enough to make Grimmjow recall the taste, the smell – hell, even the texture. It seemed different than what he was used to. Of course, it could mean that it was different because it came directly from the source, but Grimmjow didn't really think that was it.

The human's body was covered by a thin sheet from the chest down, so Grimmjow's lazy perusal was forced to a stop. He sat down on the bed next to the human and swiped his hand through the stubborn blue fringe hanging over his forehead. He remembered everything. As soon as his tongue had traced the impression of the human's carotid artery, his entire body had become hyper-aware. Hyper-_sensitive_. The blasted human had smelled absolutely mouthwatering. If he'd thought he was hungry _before_ getting a whiff of the human's strangely unique scent, he'd changed his mind afterward. The human's skin was soft and pliant – not rough like Grimmjow had imagined. He'd thought the human's skin would mirror its attitude, but that wasn't so.

And then there was the way the thing tasted. It's skin alone was nice. Like an appetizer, it's mellow flavor prepared Grimmjow for the thick richness that was the human's delectable blood. Grimmjow swallowed and licked his lips. He could still distinctly taste the crimson life of his assigned human, and it taunted him. The next feeding cycle would be Hell for sure, simply because he'd already tasted the human's blood and _liked_ it.

Grimmjow made a sour face when his conscious dredged up that word. _Of course_, he'd liked it. He'd been starving half to death. Any blood would have tasted magnificent.

_Then why were you aroused?_

Grimmjow shot to his feet and stalked to the bathroom. He was going to ignore that little slight of mind. It was natural for a vampire to become aroused during a feeding. _Completely natural_. In fact, it would be considered odd if one _didn't_ become aroused.

_Liar_.

He lowered himself onto the closed toilet and covered his face with his hands. Not only was he dealing with his brood leader while the vampire was out for blood, but now he had to argue with his mind that he wasn't lusting after his human. The thought alone was disgusting. Maybe if he just got laid, the ridiculous thoughts would go away. He wouldn't see himself running his hands over the human's smooth, creamy-looking skin. He wouldn't picture driving himself in and out of that lithe body as he had his fill of its blood. Grimmjow growled into his palms and bared his fangs.

First things first, though. He had to battle Starrk and let the vampire work off his frustration. He had one hell of a trial ahead of him.

XOXOXO

Grimmjow was a fool. There was no getting around it. The idiot had been on the verge of draining his human when Starrk had gone to check on him after not seeing him that evening in the humans' dining hall. He would have had no choice but to concur to the Elders had Grimmjow actually killed his assigned human. Thank goodness he'd been there to stop him.

Starrk shuddered as he prowled the training room. He was shirtless and wearing a pair of dark-gray linen pants. He was barefoot and itching to kick his brood son's ass. Grimmjow needed to learn his lesson and realize that he couldn't just do as he pleased. Starrk had given the younger vampire a lot of leeway, but the time had come for Grimmjow to understand and abide by his boundaries as a member of a brood.

The training room was large, made of hard wood floors and cream-colored walls. The only decoration was the abundance of old-fashioned weapons lining the walls, ranging from steel-tipped spears to double-headed axes. Starrk ambled over and snatched a flail from its metal perch. He swung it around a couple of times, familiarizing himself with the weight and dexterity of the weapon. Just as he stepped into a routine of battle stances and moves, the huge double doors to the training room swung open. Grimmjow entered, head held high and blue eyes defiant.

The vampire would never learn. He'd go to his grave an unruly and irrational being.

Starrk lowered the flail to his side and stood still. He wanted Grimmjow to know that he was extremely serious and that he wouldn't be leaving this room without a few scars in his wake. Good thing vampires could regenerate because with the mood Starrk was in, Grimmjow would probably be a lost cause.

The tall, blue-haired vampire came to a stop right in front of Starrk and lowered his head a fraction in a subservient bow. At least the brute had some semblance of manners. Still...it wasn't about to excuse him from the beating he was about to receive. Not to say that Grimmjow was a pushover. He was by no means an easy vampire to defeat, but Starrk was stronger than him and intended to let that fact be reestablished.

Starrk didn't even give his brood son a chance to ready himself. He swung at the vampire with the flail, inwardly proud when Grimmjow still managed to dodge the crippling blow that had been aimed at his head. Grimmjow disappeared from sight and reappeared to Starrk's left, large fist coming fast towards Starrk's jaw. He bent backwards, avoiding the punch, while swinging the flail at the same time. Grimmjow disappeared again, this time coming at Starrk from behind. Starrk smiled as he did his own share of vanishing; Grimmjow had learned his speed techniques from him after all. He reappeared at the blue-haired vampire's left elbow and gripped it before twisting it upwards and behind his back. As Grimmjow was distracted by his elbow, Starrk aimed the flail at the back of Grimmjow's right knee. The weapon imbedded itself into the other vampire's flesh with a nasty thud, causing Grimmjow to buckle and howl.

Starrk had to commend the kid, however. Grimmjow didn't stay down for long, even though he was clearly injured. He hobbled a bit, then corrected his stance before once again disappearing. Starrk had a feeling he knew right where Grimmjow intended to show up, so he turned to his left and smashed his fist into the other vampire's face as soon as he materialized into view. The crunch was intensely satisfying. Grimmjow grunted and grabbed his nose as he stumbled backwards. Starrk didn't let up. He followed through with another swing from the flail, which caught Grimmjow directly in the center of his mid-section. Again, Starrk didn't ease the pressure. He yanked the spiked weapon free, only to swing it again, this time cracking Grimmjow's sternum. The blue-haired vampire hit the floor, blood flying from his mouth.

Starrk stood and watched as Grimmjow refused to give in to the brutal beating he'd just received. The vampire pulled himself up on his arms, but immediately fell back to the floor, obviously exhausted. Now that his anger had been spent, Starrk winced at the sight of his brood son. Still...the disciplinary action had been necessary to make Grimmjow realize that he'd done wrong, and that it wouldn't be allowed a second time.

"Have you had enough?" Starrk asked quietly.

Grimmjow coughed and hacked, his breath bubbling in his chest and gurgling up his throat. Despite the pain he had to be in, he still managed to get a few words past his lips.

"Th-that all you got?"

Starrk knew the jibe was empty, and that was the only reason he didn't answer it with another swing of the flail. Instead, he squatted beside his fallen brood son and tossed the weapon aside.

"Your mouth will be the death of you, Grimmjow. You _do_ know this, don't you?"

Silence. But that had been expected.

"I hope you've learned your lesson for now," Starrk rumbled as he passed a hand through Grimmjow's dampened blue hair. Afterward, he climbed to his feet and stalked towards the doors. As he approached them, he looked over his shoulder and shook his head at the sad picture Grimmjow presented, lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood. "I'll have a medic come and fetch you. Make sure to stay in your room. I don't want to see your face in the mansion tonight."

With that, Starrk left, heart heavy and mind in turmoil.

XOXOXO

Ichigo blinked and stared at the dark ceiling above him. He was incredibly thirsty and hungry, and he had to piss like no tomorrow. His mouth felt dry as a bone and his head was pounding like a drum. What the hell had happened to him? He moved to sit up, and when he was overtaken by an acute case of vertigo, everything came crashing back to him. He knew exactly why he felt like shit on the rocks. Grimmjow had officially made him into a nighttime snack.

_More like an all-you-can-eat buffet_.

Ichigo fell back onto the bed and threw an arm over his eyes. Well, he had to look at the bright side: at least he was still alive. He could have become another vampire statistic, but here he was, ready for another go at feeding the volatile, blue-haired vampire. Ichigo tried the whole sitting up thing again, this time much slower, and wanted to pat himself on the back when he managed to ease his legs over the side of the bed. He started to stand, but paused when he looked across the room at Grimmjow's bed. Better yet, he froze and wished like hell that he could turn into a fly on the wall in order to escape the drilling, blue glare pointed in his direction.

He didn't know what he'd been expecting, but it certainly wasn't seeing his slave-driver so soon after almost being killed, that was for sure. He needed time to get used to the fact that he'd come within seconds of kicking the bucket. But now that he thought about it... Grimmjow was glaring at _him_ as if _he'd_ committed some heinous crime, when it really should have been the other way around. If anything, Ichigo was the one who had the right to be shooting lasers with his eyes. Well, _now_ he was pissed. He returned the hate-filled stare ten-fold. It wasn't like he was expecting the vampire bully to apologize for almost draining him dry, but Ichigo didn't think there was a reason for Grimmjow to scary-eye him, either. In fact, the asshole _should_ have been a little grateful that Ichigo had been around to sate his hunger when he'd been fucking starving to death.

The longer Ichigo mean-mugged the vampire across the room, the more he realized something was off. Grimmjow didn't look too good, although it wasn't the lying-on-death's-door look he'd sported before. It was more like he'd gotten into the fight of his life. He had a bruise across the bridge of his nose, a large bandage wrapped around his torso and right knee, and his long, blue hair was a frazzled mess, hanging over his left shoulder.

For some strange and disturbing reason, Ichigo was suddenly reminded of the erection that had violated him during Grimmjow's meal time. Not only that, but he couldn't even fight the blush that stole across his cheeks and heated his ears. How embarrassing. Thank goodness the vampire couldn't read his mind.

Ichigo stared down at his hands in his lap, refusing to give Grimmjow anymore of his attention. Not that the guy had asked for it in the first place, but Ichigo felt better not catching that murderous, blue glare head-on. He went back to the vampire's beaten up state and wondered what had caused it. Had he caught an attitude with the wrong vampire? Because there was no way in the world Ichigo would believe Grimmjow was in that state because of a human. Ichigo wanted to laugh. It served the brute right. Karma had a tendency to come back around when one least expected it.

Just then, the door to the bedroom swung open and admitted Grimmjow's wiry, silver-haired friend, Gin. Ichigo had learned his name from Renji, but had never really used it, preferring to call the creatures what they were: bloodsuckers or vampires. Gin floated into the room, wearing his regular garb that consisted of billowy material and no shoes. He went directly to Grimmjow's side, not even sparing a glance at Ichigo – which was fine. Ichigo was more interested in finding out where all of Grimmjow's battle scars had come from. He wasn't sure either vampire would talk about it in front of him, but there was always a chance.

Gin sat on the table beside Grimmjow's bed and stared at his friend with disdain. It was clear from the expression on the normally cheerful vampire's face that he was severely disappointed.

"Why're ya such a stubborn jackass?"

Grimmjow scowled and pressed his lips together. "What?"

"Ya heard me. I mean, ya got yerself inta this mess by screwin' around with the humans, an' now yer makin' it worse by bein' stupid. Why the hell would ya starve yerself 'til ya couldn't control yer hunger? Ya know how mad Starrk was?" Gin paused and looked Grimmjow over before snorting. "I guess so if those bandages and bruises're any indication."

"I hate humans and you know that," Grimmjow grumbled with a roll of his eyes.

"Yeah, well ya better get over that quick, fast an' in a hurry. 'Er else yer gonna be in a world a'trouble."

"You think I don't know that, Gin? You think I don't realize the magnitude of my judgment?"

"Then why dontcha act like ya got some sense instead a'pissin' Starrk off all the time?" Gin snapped.

Grimmjow massaged his eyes and shook his head. "It's just not that simple, and no amount of explaining will suffice."

"If ya starve yerself again and have a repeat of last night, Starrk ain't gonna be so tol'rant. I hope ya know that."

"Of course I know that."

The room went silent as the two vampires seemed to ponder the heavy conversation they'd just had. Ichigo, on the other hand, sat spellbound as he stared at Grimmjow. So, Starrk had given him those wounds? And all because Grimmjow had almost caused Ichigo's death? Could someone say beautiful justice? Ichigo wanted to whoop and leap and shout with glee, but figured that wasn't such a good idea at the moment. He'd wait until the vampires weren't around to do it. A turn of events such as this deserved a good celebration, and Ichigo intended to carry it out to the fullest.

But for now...he had to pee. Badly.

However, he didn't have the balls to just get up and walk past Grimmjow and his buddy. He didn't want the attention to shift to him, especially not with the mood the blue-haired vampire was currently in. So, what to do? Ichigo shifted on the side of the bed and crossed his ankles. He felt like he hadn't relieved his bladder in years.

Of course, he had the worst luck in the world.

Grimmjow's head lifted and his icy, blue eyes honed in on Ichigo from across the room. "Are you going to sit there and wet the bed, human?"

Ichigo jumped a bit, not expecting the vampire to actually speak to him. Then, he narrowed his eyes and sneered. He almost snapped a retort, but caught himself. He had to remember who the hell he was speaking to.

"I didn't want to interrupt your discussion."

Gin chuckled and rose from his perch on the nightstand, his reedy hand passing over the lap of his flowing pants.

"See, Grimmjow? Yer human has manners. Ya know how long it took me ta break mine in?"

"You call that broken in? He's still got a bad attitude," Grimmjow grumbled.

Had he not been aiming his sarcasm at an extremely strong vampire, Ichigo would have said something that probably would've singed the hairs in Grimmjow's nose. But he had better sense than that. Instead, he slowly climbed to his feet and trudged across the carpet to the bathroom. He carefully avoided the two vampires as he closed himself inside and made a beeline for the toilet. The instant he was in front of it, he pulled himself free from the green boxers he wore and seemed to urinate for hours. It felt _marvelous_ too. He sighed and held onto the back of the toilet, head thrown back in ecstasy.

He knew that Grimmjow and Gin were probably still in the bedroom, discussing his "unruly" behavior, but ask him if he cared. He just wanted to go eat now that he'd used the restroom. That might've been wishful thinking, but his stomach was cursing him out and demanding he fill it with something other than saliva and air.

Ichigo washed his hands at the impeccable sink and left the bathroom. He didn't even look at Grimmjow's bed, so he didn't notice at first that Gin had left. When he was almost to his bed, though, Grimmjow's voice once again assaulted the silence.

"Go eat, human. Your stomach is making so much noise, I can hear it from here."

Ichigo peeked over his shoulder and frowned. Damn, how he wanted to just give as good as he got to the asshole vampire. It wasn't fair that Grimmjow was so powerful.

"Fine," he muttered and shuffled as fast as he could over to the door.

He hadn't intended to say anything more to the vampire, but as he pulled on the heavy, metal portal, Grimmjow spoke up again.

"Human."

Ichigo paused and looked over his shoulder yet again, this time in confusion. Grimmjow was never this talkative. When it was clear the blue-haired being had his attention, Grimmjow uncharacteristically fidgeted and toyed with the bandage on his knee as he stared at the bed underneath him.

"I was told to apologize for my previous behavior."

Ichigo felt one of his eyebrows go up on its own. What the hell was this? Was that really some half-assed attempt at an apology? He wanted to scoff and roll his eyes as he proceeded to ignore the brute, but, really...where would that get him except in a sling? No, thanks.

"O-OK," he stuttered.

Honestly, he had no clue how to respond to that. Should he say thank you? Somehow that didn't seem quite right. Besides, Grimmjow didn't really want to apologize in the first place – that much was clear from his expression and tone. Ichigo wanted to ease from the room. That or disappear into the floor. This was one of those awkward moments that he just didn't know how to handle, and it was making his skin crawl with discomfort. He looked into the beckoning hallway and grimaced. Grimmjow still hadn't said anything else.

"Um-" he started.

"Just leave."

Ichigo turned back to Grimmjow and found the vampire staring at him with so much open hatred, it was scary. He went with his first instinct and dipped into the hall, quickly closing the door behind himself.

**XxxxxX**

"If you don't stop fuckin' staring at me, I'm gonna smack the hell outta you," Ichigo growled into the plate before him.

He ignored the embarrassed flush that crossed his red-haired friend's face as he stuck another bite of food into his mouth. Renji had been eyeing him since the moment he'd stepped foot into the dining hall. It was fast becoming annoying.

"Sorry, Ich."

"No you're not. Just ask and get it out of your system already."

"Well, there ain't much to ask, really. It's kinda obvious ya got better acquainted with your – I mean, the vampire assigned to you."

Ichigo sighed and set his chopsticks down along the edge of his plate. He resisted the constant urge to rub his neck as he faced his friend.

"I wouldn't actually call this 'better acquainted,' Renji. That bastard almost killed me."

Renji's eyes went round and his mouth dropped open. Then, he snapped it shut, the look in his eyes turning into remorse.

"I had a feelin' somethin' like that would happen."

"What do you mean by that?" Ichigo snapped.

"I mean, when you described his symptoms to me the other day, I already knew he was hungry. _Really_ hungry, at that."

"So, why didn't you tell me?! I would have been better prepared if I knew!"

Renji frowned and leaned closer. "I tried! My vampire made me leave before I could tell you! Remember?!"

Ichigo sat back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest. Renji was right. Now that he thought back on it, he remembered the red head being cut off before he could get to the really juicy part of their conversation. That damned Gin...

"Soo...when ya say he almost killed ya, d'ya mean that literally?" Renji continued.

Ichigo gave the man the blankest look he could muster. "What? You think I made that up? You think I'm exaggerating just for kicks?"

"No, man. I jus' wanted to be sure. They can get in trouble for that shit, ya know?"

Ichigo remembered Grimmjow's current state and gave a smug grin. "Yep. I say good for them. Maybe that'll knock them down a peg or two from that pedestal they've been standing on."

"Careful, Ich. Just 'cuz they're not standin' next to us, it doesn't mean they can't hear everything we're sayin'."

He was right..._again_. Ichigo finished his food and downed a couple of glasses of the watered down juice they were given. Now that his hunger and thirst had been sated, he was ready for another nap. He just hoped Grimmjow was either out of the room, or too busy minding his own business to worry about what Ichigo was up to.

Right on cue, the dishes were swept away, and Gin sauntered over to fetch Renji, hooking a finger under the red head's shirt collar like he always did.

"Say bye ta yer friend, Red."

Renji gave Ichigo one last glance and shrugged his shoulders. After that, he followed behind the thin, silver-haired vampire. Ichigo left the table and made his way back to the room he shared with his own personal caveman. The halls were relatively quiet, considering it was right after dinner, but he preferred it that way. He took his time heading back, using the silent moments to think about his situation. He missed his father, but he was grateful the man was alive and not dead like he'd once thought. He was also glad that the old man was the one taking care of his younger sisters. There was no telling who would've been left in charge of them had Shiro not made that deal with Starrk. Those were the two things Ichigo was actually thankful for. Everything else could go sit in a dark alley and rot.

He passed his hand along the wall of the hall that led to his quarters, dreading the moment he would actually have to go inside. He was so tired of dealing with the vampires, and especially Grimmjow. The asshole was so fucking arrogant and downright _mean_. Ichigo had never done anything to the guy, yet he was treated like a peon. It went against everything he knew – went against his very nature. There'd been so many times when he'd just wanted to walk up to Grimmjow and knock his fucking head off his shoulders. Too bad he wouldn't survive a stunt like that; he'd really love to see the expression on the blue-haired vampire's face.

The door to their room appeared before him sooner than he would have liked, but he sucked it up and pushed it open. What he saw as he crossed the threshold made him stop in his tracks and stare, wide-eyed and speechless. Mouth opened and all.

Grimmjow was still in bed, but he had company. And not company of the Gin variety, but company of the intimate, should-be-kept-behind-tightly-closed-doors variety. Ichigo wanted to rub his eyes right out of his head, but was too stunned to do much more than breathe. He'd had a feeling that the vampire preferred dudes in his bed, but now he had _proof_.

"Close the fuckin' door!" Grimmjow snarled.

His company lifted his head from the vampire's lap and turned deep, brown eyes in Ichigo's direction. The slender guy wore a coy expression and a saucy smirk. His hair was so auburn, it was almost burgundy, and his skin was pale as the moon. Grimmjow's bandages were gone, and mysteriously, there weren't even any scars in their place.

Ichigo slammed the door shut and moved on autopilot to his bed. He tried to bury himself beneath his blankets and ignore the noises coming from the other side of the room, but that was like ignoring a nuclear bomb. He lay on his side and tried to be discreet with his spying. The two males were naked, but for some strange and disgusting reason Ichigo couldn't fathom, the one he couldn't keep his eyes off of was Grimmjow. His body was _ridiculous_. Ichigo had never seen anything like it! The vampire was absolutely perfect; there wasn't a bit of flab or a muscle out of place on him.

Meanwhile, the guy between Grimmjow's legs was enthusiastically giving the best blow job Ichigo had ever witnessed in his life. It was so strange and surreal watching two men going at it, but it was also somewhat interesting. He'd never been curious about the mechanics of gay sex before, but now that it was live and in his face, there was no way he could look away. He tried not to dwell on the technical bits, but that was pretty hard too. Grimmjow was one blessed man in the equipment department – vampire or not. The guy he was cavorting with finally lifted his head from Grimmjow's lap and snaked up over the vampire's sculpted torso. The two kissed until Grimmjow grabbed the back of the guy's neck and tugged him away.

"You know what to do," he growled.

Ichigo wanted to cover his eyes when the auburn-haired man smirked and positioned himself on his back, but...he couldn't. It was impossible.

Grimmjow threw the slighter man's legs over his shoulders and reached for a small bottle on his nightstand.

_Oh, that makes sense_, Ichigo thought as he watched the blue-haired vampire pop the cap and pour some of the clear substance into his palm. He ignored the dirty sensation clinging to him as he continued to peep at Grimmjow's very private moment. If the vampire had the balls (no pun intended) to fuck in front of him, then Ichigo wasn't about to feel guilty for being a bit curious.

A loud, almost desperate shriek rent the air and drew his attention to the pair again. His eyes grew enormous as he listened to the sound of Grimmjow plowing into the poor guy beneath him. Ichigo wasn't a virgin, but even _he_ wasn't that cruel when he had sex. He'd never treated a girl that way. Hell, if he _had_, it would have been the end of his sexual career as he knew it.

The sound of their flesh coming together was sharp and extremely erotic. As Ichigo watched Grimmjow's back and hips moving, he found himself unwillingly blushing and squirming with arousal. What? He was human, if nothing else. Sex, period, was enough to have him hot under the collar, especially with how long it'd been since the last time he'd gotten some.

The guy underneath Grimmjow yelped and moaned, the sounds escalating until he was keening at a steady pitch. And then Grimmjow's hips seemed to move faster and harder, until he finally came to a stop with a final, aggressive surge forward and a deep grunt. Ichigo was ashamed to realize that he was breathing a little heavier than normal, mouth dry as if he'd just been doing his own workout. There was even a bead of sweat sliding down the side of his face. He wasn't gay, but that had been _intense_.

Grimmjow leaned back and sat on his haunches while the guy underneath him caught his breath, still slightly moaning and sighing with bliss. Ichigo was about to turn over and give them a moment to themselves, when Grimmjow's head slowly turned to the side in his direction. At first, Ichigo didn't understand the look of confusion the blue-haired vampire was wearing. In fact, it made him frown, puzzled, in return. Then, Grimmjow's head lifted ever so slightly, nostrils flaring. That was when Ichigo panicked, but it was too late by then.

Grimmjow gave a slow, full-blown grin that showed all of his teeth as his piercing blue gaze locked with Ichigo's wildly uncertain one.


	10. Chapter 10: Memories

**CHAPTER 10: MEMORIES**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach...

Onwards...

* * *

"_Groups tend to be more immoral than individuals."_

_-Reinhold Niebuhr-_

* * *

XOXOXO

After Grimmjow told Alastor to leave the room, he sauntered into the bathroom, feeling like a brand new vampire. His buildup of sexual tension had been relieved, but now he had a new issue to deal with. As he'd been coming off of his orgasm high, he'd noticed a foreign smell lingering in the air. As a matter of fact, it had done more than linger; more like it'd been permeating the air right along with the smell of sex. He'd been confused at first as he'd tried to identify it, but when he finally had, several sensations had overtaken him. One had been pure, unadulterated shock. Another had been a distinct shudder of repulsion. And the last had been amusement.

That fucking human of his had been aroused. Extremely so, at that.

Grimmjow sat down on the closed toilet and smirked as he ran a hand through his tangled hair. What was he going to do about this situation? When he'd glanced over his shoulder at the human, he'd noticed the look of fear and embarrassment on its face. That was just something that Grimmjow couldn't overlook. It wasn't in his nature. On the one hand, he wanted to tease the human for being aroused by that sexual display, but on the other hand, he wanted to rip it apart for even daring to feel that way about a vampire. Especially a pure-blood like himself. It was unacceptable.

So, what should he do?

He climbed to his feet and brushed his teeth before heading over to the standing shower and turning on the tap. The sound of the water hitting the granite floor was soothing to his mind, but it wasn't enough. As he stepped beneath the hot spray, he shut his eyes and thought about the look on the human's face. Those earthy brown eyes had been wide and stunned, as if the human couldn't believe it was aroused itself. Maybe that was true. There was a chance that it preferred the opposite sex. If that was the case, then that would explain the human's shock.

Grimmjow shook his head and decided to use the incident as fuel for his torture fire. He was going to make the human regret even looking his way while he'd been having intercourse. Grimmjow finally reached for his shower gel and began rubbing it over his body until he was covered with a thick, pale-blue lather. The color reminded him of his own hair, of course, but more-so of his deceased mother's. Her hair had woven a path down her delicate back and hadn't stopped until its wavy ends had reached her calves. Grimmjow remembered watching it swish behind her whenever she walked away. Images of her smiling face, her laughing, navy-blue eyes, her slightly bronzed skin that made her _look_ like she'd been out in the sun for too long – they all made a lump form in his throat as he squeezed his eyes shut against the thundering pain of his memories.

He missed his mother's gentle words and bubbly laughter, but most of all, he missed her smell. She'd always carried the sweet scent of honeysuckle, her favorite flower. She'd been a peaceful vampire, wishing for camaraderie between their race and the humans. The same had gone for his extraordinarily powerful father. The vampire had been tall and intimidating, with a deep voice to match. His hair had been blood-red, but his eyes had been the same shade as Grimmjow's: an endless ocean of blue. His smile had been charming and kind, his demeanor just as welcoming.

Grimmjow's parents had been leaders of a small group of vampires that had wanted to coexist with the humans. Being an Elder, Grimmjow's father, Samhiel Jaegerjaques, had been a prominent figure in their world. Grimmjow's mother, Imogen Jaegerjaques, had supported her husband fully, wishing for nothing but cooperation between the races. The Elder council had agreed and had left the task of approaching the humans in charge up to Samhiel. Grimmjow remembered that night like it was yesterday. His parents had convened with the King of England in the library of their old home, leaving Grimmjow with a nanny. Unfortunately, Grimmjow had been an unruly kid and had found it child's play getting away from the older vampire woman. He'd crept down to the library and pressed his ear to the door, shamelessly eavesdropping. He'd made it just in time to hear his mother's voice raise with concerned indignation.

"_What do you mean you have no tolerance for our existence?! We offer you peace between our races, yet you spit it back in our faces!"_

"_Calm yourself, Imogen," Samhiel ordered, voice stern. A brief pause reigned before the Elder vampire was again speaking. "Your Highness, we only wish to coexist with your kind. There are ways to let us feed from humans without causing their deaths. This is what-"_

"_And how shall I propose this to my people?" the King interrupted. "What then? Do I simply explain that they will be required to let another being bite them, and thus ingest their blood? Are you mad?"_

"_Surely we can come to an agreement," Samhiel said quietly._

_Grimmjow remained pressed to the heavy wooden door, but couldn't stop his legs from shaking. How dare that human talk to his parents that way? Didn't he know who they were? Who his father was? _

"_Be that as it may, Sir, I cannot allow this to come to light," the King went on._

"_Then, what would you suggest?" Imogen snapped, making Grimmjow's blood run cold. He'd never heard his mother sound that way. Ever. Not even when she was upset. "Are you telling us that our race is condemned to starvation because you're being too stubborn-"_

"_Imogen."_

"_No, Samhiel, this is madness! We'll all die if we leave it to this man!"_

_Before Grimmjow could register what was going on, the sound of glass shattering from within the library coincided with the sound of the front door to his home being viciously destroyed. He jumped so hard, he bit his tongue as he whirled in place. A line of humans armed with swords and shields marched into the front entrance and turned down the hall towards the library, their footsteps heavy and metallic. Grimmjow didn't know what to do, but luckily, the decision wasn't left to him. In the next instant, his mouth was covered and his body hugged to a warm torso as he was swept away with the speed only vampires could achieve. His heart was still racing as he and his captor came to a stop on the upper level of the mansion. Afraid for his parents, he bit the hand covering his mouth and scurried to the banister that overlooked the lower level. As soon as he peered between the wooden bars, he was privy to the sight of his parents being trundled from the library, their hands bound with lengths of silver chain._

"_Moth-" he started to cry out, but was once again silenced. _

_This time, he managed to twist around and catch sight of his captor. "Starrk!"_

_The brunet Elder was a close friend of Grimmjow's parents, so his presence was more than welcome at the moment. Confusion still strong in his mind, Grimmjow tugged at the vampire's long, white sleeve._

"_What's going on? Why are they taking my parents? What's going to happen?"_

_Starrk pressed his index finger to Grimmjow's lips, silencing him as he turned towards the commotion taking place below them. After a few moments of quietly observing the scene, Starrk faced Grimmjow again and sighed deeply._

"_I'm afraid things aren't going the way your parents had hoped."_

_Grimmjow only somewhat understood what Starrk was talking about. He knew that his parents had been meeting with the human ruler of their country to discuss peace between their races, but he couldn't comprehend just why his parents were being forced from their home so suddenly._

"_I don't understand," he whispered as he lowered his eyes to the hardwood floor. "Mother...she said after tonight, we would be able to live freely. We wouldn't have to worry about hiding even while the moon was high in the sky. And Father...he was so happy. Why are the humans being so mean to them?"_

"_Sometimes things happen that we don't and probably won't understand. It would be too complicated a matter for me to explain right now, Grimmjow. All I can do is keep you safe."_

What Starrk had neglected to tell Grimmjow at the time was that his parents had fallen victim to the cruelty of human mobs. Grimmjow remembered breaking free from Starrk in order to race to the nearest window. Once there, he'd glued himself to the cold glass and watched the human mob with their swords and battleaxes. He'd watched helplessly as they'd tied his parents to a post and repeatedly attacked them with silver weapons until they'd succumbed to their deaths. As he'd been dragged from the window, kicking and screaming until his throat was raw and his voice hoarse, he'd inwardly vowed to _never_ trust a human. He promised himself that he would _never_ share the fate that had befallen his parents.

Grimmjow rinsed off and scrubbed a shaky hand over his face. The memories of his parents' deaths always made him lose his composure. Always made him thirst for vengeance and violence. He wouldn't be a happy vampire until humans were firmly under thumb, where they belonged. He despised having to treat them with any sort of consideration. It burned him up. Why should _he_, of all vampires, be forced to endure a donor? His history alone should have made him ineligible for ownership. But no. Left up to Starrk and the rest of those miserable Elders, Grimmjow had been sentenced to something akin to death by silver. As a matter of fact, it felt a lot worse. He wished that he could genuinely say that he understood their vampire politics, but that would be a blatant lie. He hated everything about the vampire Elder council that had done nothing but tuck tail and hide after his parents' deaths. They had chosen the coward's path, and as far as Grimmjow was concerned, they didn't deserve an ounce of his respect or obedience, for that matter.

He shut off the shower and stepped out, reaching blindly for a towel as wet tendrils of his hair brushed over his eyes and made him squeeze them shut. He took a moment to dry off and stare at his reflection in the mirror. How had a pure-blood like himself been reduced to such a pitiful existence? He should be free to roam the streets and maim and destroy any human unfortunate enough to cross his path.

Grimmjow left the bathroom, black towel wrapped around his waist and hair clinging to his still slightly dampened skin. As he made his way back to his bed, he noticed that the human in his room was feigning sleep. It had its back turned to him and its blanket pulled up over its head of bright orange hair. However, its breathing was uneven, and its heart rate was through the ceiling. Grimmjow smirked and licked his lips before baring his fangs. He was itching to cause a little mischief, but he would wait. Yes, he'd wait until a brilliant idea crossed his mind. An idea so brilliant, he and that god-forsaken human would be feeling the effects for at least a month. Possibly more.

He sat on the side of his bed after switching on the stereo. He wasn't really in the mood for his usual, so he grabbed the remote from his nightstand and allowed the play list to change. As he stood and let the towel hit the thickly carpeted floor, Buckcherry's "Crazy Bitch" poured into the room. It certainly wasn't Britney Spears or Icona Pop, but it fit his devilish mood. Not to mention, the sexually charged lyrics were sure to draw some kind of reaction from the human across the room. Sure enough, as the chorus rolled around, the human froze, its back stiffening under its heavy blanket. Grimmjow fought a cackle as he peeled his own comforter back and slipped beneath it. Oh, he was going to have so much fun making that human's life absolutely fucking miserable.

XOXOXO

_**April 2012**_

_**Outskirts of Karakura**_

_**Karakura, Japan**_

"Who would've guessed that you were the adopted daughter of a pure-blooded vampire family?"

Crush glared at the slight, dark-haired woman, hatred gleaming in his narrowed, black eyes. However, the girl never flinched or balked at the intimidating stare.

"You don't scare me."

"I should. You know what we're capable of, and treason is a damned good reason to send your ass to Hell."

He had to stop this. If he didn't, Crush would get carried away, and the girl would end up as nothing but a bad memory. He stepped forward, drawing the girl's attention. She was brave, that was for sure. Instead of showing any signs of weakness, she displayed outright belligerence.

"I don't care what you do to me. Nothing can top what awaits me if I betray my brother," she said, head held high and chin tilted with defiance.

"That's what _you_ think," Crush hissed.

He held up a hand and gave Crush a stern look that told the bald man precisely how serious he was. Once Crush quieted down, he turned back to the girl tied to a chair in the middle of their meeting room.

"Were you _sent_ to spy on us? Or was this all your idea?"

"Does it matter?" the girl snapped, violet eyes glittering.

"Let me shut her trap for her," a female voice rang out from behind him.

He turned and smiled at the short blonde. "Not now, Kitty."

Kitty pouted and folded her arms over her chest as she resumed holding up the wall and sending murderous looks the other girl's way. He once more gave his attention to the small woman in front of him, but before he could speak, his partner stepped forward with a wide grin.

"She's right, Sage. It don't matter whether she was sent or decided to spy on us on her own. I say we lock her up and throw away the key."

"Berserk," he started.

"It might be the only option we have until we can figure out how to move forward with our plans," a quiet tenor added.

He craned a look over his shoulder in time to see Hawk step forward, maroon hair pulled back in a low ponytail that hung over his left shoulder. He had wine-colored eyes and his expression hardly ever deviated from its usual somber countenance.

"She's not cooperating," Hawk continued. "She won't tell us what we want to hear, even if we torture her. This is a waste of time."

He had to admit that Hawk made a valid point. The woman was being exceptionally difficult, and time was of the essence. If she _had_ been sent to spy on their organization, then that meant that the vampires were aware of their existence. But if she had stumbled upon their organization on her own, then that was a different story. It at least afforded them the time they needed to regroup and form another plan since the old one might have already been leaked. It was a good thing they'd decided to use code names for one another, or else they'd be dead by now.

"Fine," he finally said, surrendering to the inevitable. "Take her down to the cells."

Berserk nodded, the small bells on the ends of his hair tinkling merrily, even though the situation was anything but. Hawk stepped forward and assisted Berserk with untying the girl and lifting her from her seat. As the two men began guiding her towards the door, she looked over her shoulder with a sinister grin that sent chills racing up and down his spine.

"My brother will kill you. He'll kill all of you, and then he'll come save me from your pathetic excuse of a prison."

Her words were clearly desperate underneath the hardened facade, but she never broke character. She remained stoic and unmoving until she disappeared from view. What a strange girl. It was as though she'd had no fear in her heart. He moved to a table on the far side of the room, only to be joined by Crush a moment later.

"You should've just let me kill her."

"And where would that have gotten us?"

"Like _that_ matters. What _does_ matter is the fact that we have to tolerate these shitheads because they're stronger than us. I hate heeding threats from a woman with the body of an adolescent girl. It's a strike against my pride, Sage."

He chuckled and put a hand on Crush's shoulder. "You have my sincerest apologies, Crush. But I still think that what we did was the right decision. We can't have her running back to her pure-blooded _and_ Elder vampire brother. It would be like inviting disaster into your living room. At least with her here, we can monitor her movements."

Crush looked like he really didn't want to hear that, but after a few beats, his wide grin appeared.

"I guess that's why we call you Sage."

He nodded and returned Crush's grin. "I suppose. But why don't you check out the situation going on downstairs for me?"

Crush gave a deep, belly chuckle. "I know a diversion tactic when I see one. Why didn't you just say you wanted me to leave you alone?"

"That's not true, and you know it."

Crush didn't respond with words; he just grinned a bit and snorted a laugh as he made his way over to the door. Once he was gone, Sage went back to pondering their current predicament. How the hell was he going to fix this?

XOXOXO

Ichigo wanted to die. He wanted to shrivel up into a small heap and turn to ash. Why was he being forced to endure the childish and annoying as fuck behavior from a creature that had to be many years older than himself? It didn't make sense. One would think with the way that Grimmjow hated humans, it would leave the night-crawler bitter and humorless. It would leave him nothing more than an empty shell, but still the idiot vampire managed to come up with devious plot after devious plot. It was bad enough in Ichigo's mind that he'd been affected by Grimmjow's earlier performance, but now he had to endure what was close to torture from the blue-haired vampire.

For instance, not even an hour ago, Grimmjow had paraded around the room without a single stitch of clothing on. Ichigo had thought the coast was clear once Grimmjow had emerged from the bathroom and climbed into his bed. Sure, the vampire had turned on his music loud enough to wake the dead and then some, but for once, it hadn't been the teeny bopper genre Grimmjow normally listened to. The lively rock music had almost put Ichigo in a good mood...until he'd paid attention to the lyrics.

"_Hey, you're crazy bitch, but you fuck so good I'm on top of it. When I dream, I'm doing you all night. Scratches all down my back to keep me right on."_

That asshole.

Ichigo grimaced when he remembered the look Grimmjow had given him when he'd obviously noticed that Ichigo's body had reacted to what had been going on in the room. Humiliating didn't even _begin_ to do the job of describing what Ichigo had felt once Grimmjow had disappeared into the bathroom. He didn't understand why he couldn't have just experienced his disquieting lust without the vampire's knowledge. _Of course_, with his luck, that had been impossible. _Of course_, Grimmjow would smell whatever it was that gave it away.

Ichigo rolled onto his back now that Grimmjow was out of the bedroom. He didn't know where the blue-haired cretin had gone and, frankly, he didn't care. He was just glad to be alone with his thoughts for a while. He'd come to the conclusion that the reason he'd even been aroused by what he'd seen in the first place was because he hadn't had any physical contact with another human being in what felt like forever. He hadn't even masturbated in years, which for a healthy male in his prime, was highly unheard of. Ichigo wished there was something he could do about his problem, but nothing came to mind. He was stuck as a prisoner in a mansion full of vampires, and unless he got busy with a female vampire (which he sure as hell wasn't about to do), then he would remain sexually inactive – which completely sucked.

Maybe the next time he met up with Renji, he could ask the red head what _he_ did when he was feeling sexually frustrated. Renji had been more of a playboy than Ichigo had ever been, so there was a chance that there was something that Ichigo was missing that Renji hadn't. It was worth a shot, at any rate. Besides, it was infinitely better than trying to speculate on the whys of the looks Renji would sometimes give Gin. Ichigo shuddered and squeezed his eyes shut, forcing the disturbing images from his mind.

His thoughts went back to the way Grimmjow had walked around the room in the nude before finally dressing and leaving. Ichigo hadn't understood why the vampire had been doing such a thing at the time, but after remembering the evil smirk the asshole had been wearing, the reason had become all too clear. Grimmjow probably thought that because of Ichigo's slip-up earlier, it had to mean that Ichigo was attracted to him and would react to the slightest provocation. Ichigo shook his head in agitation as he tossed his blanket away and threw his legs over the side of the bed.

_That idiot's got another thing coming if that's what he's thinking_.

How arrogant could one being be? Obviously, Grimmjow's narcissism knew no bounds.

As Ichigo climbed to his feet, mind set on relieving his bladder, the door to the bedroom swung open. His foot was still raised in mid-step when his visitor entered the room. At first, every muscle in Ichigo's body seized up in shock as he registered a head full of ash-white hair and a huge grin. But upon second and third glances, he realized that his visitor wasn't Shiro returned from the dead. This guy, instead of strange black and gold eyes, his were a dull, washed-out gray. And instead of two rows of straight, gleaming-white teeth, this guy's were covered with metal braces. How strange. In fact, once Ichigo's heart slowed and he was able to take in more of the guy's appearance, he realized that _the guy_ was more like _a kid_. He had to be a couple of years younger than Ichigo.

The kid moved a little towards the center of the room, but stopped and stared at Ichigo, his head tilted with puppy-like curiosity. His metallic grin spread as he slipped his hands into the dark pockets of his guard uniform. He rocked back on his heels and hummed a little as he continued to study Ichigo. Ichigo, on the other hand, was growing more and more agitated, and less and less intrigued. Of course, he was wondering why he had a guard that he'd never seen before in his room, but at the same time, the way the kid stared at him set him on edge.

"Soooo," he started as he folded his arms over his chest. "Are we gonna do this all night or what?"

The kid laughed, his eyes disappearing into jolly creases. "Now I see why Big Bro liked ya so much. Ya got spunk!"

_Liked me so much? What's he – oh, shit_...

"D-did you say, b-big bro?"

The kid nodded and took a few steps closer. The scent of freshly mowed grass and imminent rain drifted towards Ichigo, cementing the realization taking root in his mind.

"Shiro was your brother?" he breathed.

"Yeah," the kid sighed and placed a hand at the back of his neck. "If it wasn't fer the Boss gettin' to 'em first, I woulda killed all a'doze sons'a'bitches. Big Bro was my best friend."

Ichigo instantly felt a wave of intense remorse and guilt crash over him. Images of Shiro leading him from the prison and Blood Bank 214, of Keigo's death, and ultimately of Shiro's death, flooded his mind and had him gasping for air as he clutched his chest. He'd been too numb to properly mourn the loss of two of his friends (regardless of how scary and unpredictable Shiro had had a tendency to be, the Ghoul had still been Ichigo's friend), and the sudden onslaught of memories was enough to make his knees buckle beneath him. However, he grabbed a fistful of resolve and straightened his back as he met the kid's eyes.

"He was a good guy," Ichigo said quietly.

"Yer tellin' me? Big Bro an' me used ta do _everythin'_ tagether. Then, he met you. He used ta talk about'cha all the time. Man," the kid chuckled. "I always had a feelin' Big Bro liked dudes."

"What's your name? And were you Shiro's _real_ brother? Or just his...his _Ghoul_ brother?"

The kid put a finger to his chin and lifted it as he seemed to consult the ceiling. After a few moments of humming and pressing his lips together, the kid returned his attention to Ichigo with a small smile.

"I'm Di Roy Rinker, and I guess you could say me an' Big Bro were a little bit of both."

Ichigo frowned. "What the hell does that mean?"

Di Roy's smile spread. "It means that me an' Big Bro were both Ghoul brothers _and_ real brothers, _I-chi-go_. We were orphans a long time ago and stayed in the same facility. Big Bro wouldn't let us be separated, you see? But one night, he came back...I dunno know..._different_. We left the orphanage after that. 'Ay, did he tell ya we got a sister?"

Ichigo just shook his head, allowing the youngster to continue with his story.

"Yeah, she's older'n both of us, but Big Bro was the one that kept us together and outta harm's way. When he told us what'd happened to 'im, an' why he was so different, we decided to follow suit. Boss is a great person, so making The Change wasn't so bad."

"Wait," Ichigo put in, hand held up and eyes shut. When he opened them, Di Roy was staring at him in confusion. "The Change? So you mean to tell me that you guys _wanted_ to become Ghouls?!"

"Well, yeah. Like I said, Boss is an amazin' guy! He offered us help and protection, when all around us, people were trying to separate and hurt us. What would you a'done?"

Ichigo snapped his mouth closed and nodded. He would have done the exact same thing had he been in a similar predicament with his little sisters. He couldn't blame Shiro and his siblings for making the best out of a dire situation.

"I get it now. So, uh...h-how old are you? How old was Shiro?"

Di Roy grunted and scratched his jaw in thought. Was the answer that difficult?

"Well, when me and Nel made The Change, I was thirteen and Shiro was eighteen. But that was in 1904, and I ain't too good at math, either."

Ichigo's mouth fell open as he stared. You could have tipped him over with a feather, he was so surprised. 1904? 19 – that meant that Di Roy was over a hundred years old!

"Holy shit."

"Haha! You should see yer face!"

Without a doubt, Ichigo already knew it looked ridiculous. He knew that vampires and whatnot aged differently, but being faced with the proof of such was an entirely different story. And Di Roy wasn't even a vampire; he was a _Ghoul_. Imagine how long the vampires had been around, then. Ichigo swallowed a few times before licking his lips and getting back on track.

"So, um...why exactly are you here?"

"Ah, yeah! I almost fergot! I'm 'posed ta escort ya ta the ceremony chamber."

That didn't sound good. That didn't sound good at all.

"Ceremony chamber? What for?"

"Well, Ichigo, taday's yer lucky day! 'Er actually yer lucky night. Ya get ta witness a true-blue Blood Bond, in the flesh."

"A what?"

"A Blood Bond. S'when a vamp gets married. Normally, if it's wit' another vamp, then they exchange blood to strengthen their intimacy and bond, but if a vamp is marryin' a human, then the blood exchange turns the human inta one a'them."

Ichigo remained rooted to the carpet, heart galloping behind his ribs before his mind finally remembered that Di Roy had said he would be _witnessing_ the event – not actually taking part in it. Thank goodness. There was no telling what Grimmjow had been up to, and with the vampire's recent, unpredictable behavior, anything was possible. Ichigo blew out a breath and ran a hand through his hair. So, who the hell was crazy enough to marry a fucking vampire?

"Do, uh...do you know who's getting married?" he asked.

Di Roy nodded, face lighting up with glee. "Sure, I do. In this case, it's a little more complicated since a vamp is marryin' a Ghoul, but it should still be interestin'."

"Huh? I thought you said-"

"Yeah, a vamp marryin' a Ghoul ain't really heard of that often, but since my sis belongs to one a'the oldest Elders, she's gettin' a special blessin'."

"Your _sister_?"

"Yup. Big Sis is marryin' Elder Aizen. He's a little scary, but Big Sis loves 'im, so I guess that's all that matters, eh?"

Ichigo had no idea who the people Di Roy mentioned were, but figured he could relax because of it. As long as he wasn't involved in the ceremony, he was fine. Besides, this had to be a big event, so he could observe and take notes.

"So, let's go, Ichigo! We got a huge night ahead of us!"

**Feel free to skip this part!**

**I'm going to take this time to mention something that's been bothering me lately. I haven't been around as much as I used to and yet, I _still_ get slammed for shit I didn't even fucking do. Dude, if you're feeling some type of way about me, don't take the coward's route and leave anonymous flaming. My inbox is open. Drop me a line or two, and we can discuss it. ;) Oh, and for the record, I never told _anyone_ to delete their story, and I don't give a fuck about writers using similar plots. No idea is fully original. What I care about, and what seems to happen an awful lot, is when the supporting scenes I write to make my stories a little different get taken. That's where I get angry because who wants to keep reading the same fucking story over and over? You can say that it's OK to take a story and change it here and there to make it your own, but when you don't even give credit where it's due, it makes it copying. Sorry to burst that bubble, but it is what it is. I'm sick of being made out as the bad guy for defending my work. A lot of people bend the rules when it's favorable for them, but I'm not one of those people. I'm sorry you can't handle that. I'm sorry if I may come off as a bitch, but I'm sick and tired of people talking shit about me when I know I'm right. That's like you writing a story, and like 80% of your scenes being borrowed for someone else's story with a similar plot. Dude, not even movies have exact same scenes as the next one unless it's done purposely. Give me a break, please! I don't "bitch and complain" about everything; I just tell it like it is. I say what everyone is afraid to say, and for some reason that makes me public enemy number one. I get accused of thinking I'm God, of being a whole bunch of other disrespectful shit, but I have never _not once_ been disrespectful to anyone who wasn't disrespectful to me first. Ask around! It's true! But I'm DONE with this argument. It's old, and it's fucking annoying. My hope is that you guys realize that I'm not some fucking story Nazi who goes around accusing everyone of taking my stuff for no good reason. In fact, I don't even _look_ for the shit. READERS alert me to the fact that someone is "borrowing" from me, and that's when I check into it. You can go ahead and mull that one over while you're standing on your high horses. Just like you, I work hard on my stories. It doesn't feel good having any of it taken from me without permission. I didn't even leave author's notes for months because I was tired of the abuse, but now I'm back and I will continue to defend myself. It can't be that hard to come up with a story that doesn't look exactly like another one. Not unless it's done purposely, and even then, credit should be given where it's due. Fuck, I do it! If I borrow a plot from a movie or a book, I give credit to it. I don't just take it and say, "hey, look what I came up with in a dream, or in the middle of the night." No. And I damn sure try my best to make the shit different. Like I said, I don't care if you use similar plot ideas. I really don't. Just don't use my scenes for that similar plot idea because then that's copying no matter how you try to twist the truth. I'm fully prepared for the fallout this will cause, but I felt like I had to let my side be heard since a bunch of people have been internet gangsters lately, and I don't appreciate it. **

**To those who have continuously supported and encouraged me, thank you so much! You have no idea how much I love and appreciate you for it! And thank you for the many reviews I've received! I'm eternally grateful!**

**Thanks for your time.**


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